The Union Forever
by F-14 Tomcat Lover
Summary: The Holy Empire of Britannia always thought itself unrivaled. But it finds it increasingly irritated that it has a rival. The United States of America. A nation of free people. Free to choose their own path in life. To rise and fall on their own merits. Unrivaled in its success as a Democracy and dedicated to the proposition that all people are free and equal no matter their status
1. One Life

_**The Union Forever**_

_**Prologue**_

_**One Life**_

**XXXX**

**Siege of Yorktown**

**October 9th, 1781 AD**

**XXXX**

Major General Lord Baron William Josiah Marcus Bruce, Lord Baron of the Barony of New Lomond, stood as the cannons began to thunder to life, one by one, until there was an endless sheet of flame and thunder crashing through the very air.

He quickly found himself holding down his tricorn as guns fired in a great chorus. The roar of the guns deafening, but as true as his beating heart. The majestic sight of so many guns firing in one great effort.

"Look to boys!" he calls to his men all around him, "We shall not see another sight like it in our lives. So remember. _REMEMBER!"_ he shouts to them, "That upon this day! With the grace of heaven! We declare we are Freemen! To which no crown shall ever hold us nor bind us to a will not our own again!"

The cheers of the American Continentals could be heard over the roar of the guns.

While noted as the Lord Baron of his family's holdings in London, he had been, in fact, pushed out in favor of his older sister's husband. He had been forced to surrender all, but the titles, and shoulder the debt upon the family name. So in rebellion, he had cut his sister and her husband from all rights, as was his privilege and rights granted by charter and crown, but instead, he had been fully ousted and his lands wrought to ruin.

But while he continues to hold the titles, he merely uses them to show his contempt to the English crown.

For once he passes, so too will the Barony of New Lomond. Never again, shall it exist. For he had granted all upon his lands, the title of Freeman, and ended all servitude, regardless of their skin and origin. All were created free by their Divine Creator, therefore, he would follow through as a man of character and faith.

Standing before them, the English troops and their German allies rush about, trying to avoid being hit. As Baron Bruce watches, one of his cannons clips a building, the cannonball ricocheting off to somehow reach the harbor, distant from their view.

A few moments later, a great explosion erupts in the harbor and the remains of a ship can be seen flying up into the air.

A piece of that said ship flies in towards where the Baron and his men stand and they have to dodge a rain of debris.

The Baron trips when a piece of sail lands atop him, still tied to whatever part of a mast it had been attached too. He tumbles over, but is caught by two of his men who had taken shelter near a dugout with a wooden overhang. They pull him into cover as the light rain of debris come to an end amid joyous laughter.

"What in the name of Old Lomond is all of that laughter?" the Baron demands angrily as he pulls himself free of the sail remnant.

"In your hands sir!" one of the two men pulls on one of the sail as the other lifts the other end.

The Baron blinks as in his hands, are the colors of the ill-fated ship his cannon had destroyed!

"Well," his men are laughing still and he reckons he gave them quite the show running about and tripping in the enemy's colors, "I believe this will make a fine gift to Congress when we return north to retake New York!"

Three cheers at that declaration were fast to follow.

**XXXX**

**October 11th, 1781 AD**

**XXXX**

"As quiet as you can men, dig fast," the Baron surveys the line of digging his men are doing. The same as all others along the line, "We will sleep well tonight while the English shell our old line."

The quiet chuckling follows that as the men dig. Their officers not minding the occasional shovel of dirt onto their boots. They even drop into the lines to help with the work and even pass out water to the thirsty.

"Hmm," Baron Bruce muses as he helps dig, stripped down to his waist, "Reminds me of that time I had to help a farmer because of a prank gone too far."

"A prank sir?" one man looks and sounds incredulous.

"Aye, a prank," the general smiles back to the man, "I missed those days on the farm. Honestly, they were the happiest moments of my life until now, for I earned my praise rather than receive it for who I was born as."

"That would change a man's outlook on life," another soldier mutters as he digs, a big ox of a man with a stout constitution and shoulders perhaps wider than some children were tall at age!

Nodding as he shoveled out another amount of earth, "That it did and I dare say, that is when I started my walk onto this path."

"Just needed a push?" an officer drops down into the unfinished trench and passes out water.

"Didn't we all?" the soon to be ex-Baron replies.

"We did," another man states, his colored skin making him stand out, but he is a Freeman now, thanks to his service.

"We all did indeed," the officer takes the general's shovel and lets the man know, the Senior Staff is soon to meet and he needs to be there.

**XXXX**

**150 Yards from N.9 Redoubt**

**October 14th, 1781 AD**

**XXXX**

"General," the Baron looks up from his maps, reading them with care one last time, to the person who had spoken to him, "I wish you well, for destiny shall await us both upon your outcome."

Removing his tricorn and placing it over his heart with a slight bow before rising, "Lieutenant General, you shall need not fear," using his free hand to signal the redoubt just beyond their lines, "I shall take that redoubt either to rejoin you or to be with you in spirit. You needn't worry, for upon the dawn of tomorrow, a new nation, conceived in Liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal will no longer be a dream, but a reality for all free peoples of this great world."

"I pray not for your success then," the senior officer states, "But rather, I shall pray for you safe return and failing that, of your soul's passage to the hereafter."

"My great thanks Lieutenant General," the Baron bows even lower than before with an arm outstretched.

"The cannons shall open your path, so take it quickly," and with those parting words, the commander of all forces walks away to oversee the assault preparations of No.10 Redoubt.

Turning to his officers after rising from his bow, "We shall take that path quickly indeed. Are the men ready?"

"Yes Major General," one of his aides responds at once, "Eager and pulling at the iron chain that holds them to England."

"Then let us break that chain," another aide states with a low chuckle, just as eager as the assigned troops.

"Let us break the enemy and come next Sunday, break bread as Freemen!" the former pastor amongst them declares.

Stabbing a knife into Yorktown, the Baron silently agrees.

**XXXX**

**Assaulting No.10 Redoubt**

**XXXX**

Innocent faced, curly blond hair and fair skinned Private Hanson Jennings nearly trips. The young man is underage to be in the army, but the Baron permits it. He has called upon every able bodied person to fight the battle and win their freedom and future from the Crown Across the Sea!

So here was Private Jennings, right behind the Major General himself, tripping like a fool!

"You well Private Jennings?" the Baron turns to the jade-eyed young man, "We have to fight to the top and then into the Redoubt itself."

"I am well, sir," the young sounding private swallows thickly, "Though I do admit to being worried sir."

"About the English fleet, no?" General Bruce frowns in thought, his stately features twisting with the act to shown his concern as his blue eyes narrow in thought.

"Yessir," Private Jennings and the others begin to reach the abatis line and find it undamaged, "Should they not have already arrived? With reinforcements? Or to evacuate the Redcoats, sir?"

The men with axes begin working in unison. The officers had expected this possibility. So they had trained their best axes to cut through in a hurry. But the noise, is something that pulls at the collective assault's nerves.

"Indeed and why they haven't I have no means to divine," William J.M. Bruce does not like such mysteries. They seldom turn out well. But to the private and the officers and men around them, "I would say that perhaps weather may not be on their side or their own means at preventing ship capture may be in their way. Though there need not be worry, the Senior Staff and myself have discussed this for a fortnight and believe there is merely reason we have yet to see and the news shall be joyous rather than disastrous."

"HALT! Wer geht dahin?" a Germanic voice calls down and a quick thinking lieutenant shouts back up.

"Speak English you oaf! Where am I? My men and I are returning from scouting with these blasted and dammable rebels aware of us!"

"Pardon me milord!" the man calls back down, "We were told of no such scouts? What is your regiment and name?"

"Leftenant Evans Courtney of the Earl House of Suffolk!" the officer is another Noble turned Patriot, "My regiment is the Suffolk Reds Light Regiment of Foot, Twenty-Third Battalion, Second Company! We were sent out on the other end of the line by boat, to scout the enemy's strength to rear, but were discovered by those dammable Militiamen! No one told me that I had to contend with skilled hunters from the Frontier!"

The perfect whine for an officer unaccustomed to North America.

"You are destroying our defenses!" the sentry calls down, "Stop and let us show you the way through!"

"Hold the work men!" the lieutenant calls, though it is little late, the abatis had been broken through in numerous places.

Enough that the men are already slipping through.

"Once through, strap that wood back into place, I don't care how at this point!" the lieutenant continues as both Jennings and Bruce slip through as well, "The rest of you follow the sentry around.

"This way, quick!" the sentry calls down and the men move quietly until another Hessian pokes his head up and looks more closely, but by that time, the ruse and assault were working too perfectly to stop.

"ALARM! Es ist der Feind!" the second Hessian shouts, even as his comrades are trying to help the Patriots up the front of their redoubt.

"HALT und Feuer auf sie!" an officer orders as men let go of Patriots, but too many are now atop the works and attack first with a thrust of bayonets, breaking up the Hessians.

"OVER THE TOP!" Bruce orders as he and Jennings begin the process themselves, with Bruce giving the smaller Jennings his shoulders to climb up and fight, "OVER THE TOP!"

The lieutenant and his group come up through the opening they have been shown in haste. Several of the men had been able to quietly load their muskets. The occasional shot rings out from both sides as the back entrance is overrun by the Patriots.

A belated and disorganized volley tears above Jennings head, but he hears someone behind him cry out and all atop him. Pushed down by the heavier person, Jennings is barely able to deflect a saber from an officer before the man is shot by another of the regiment's officers.

"Jennings!" the man cries out, "How is the Major General?"

"WHAT?!" Jennings carefully squirms out from beneath the fallen man and gently turns over the wounded Baron.

The dim light does not help, but his bare hands finds the hole and the blood around.

"He's hurt bad!" thankfully it is only one hole, but to the chest, "I can hear something from the hole!"

The officers keep the attack going as Jennings holds their leader in his arms, doing what he can to stem the bleeding.

Another pair of volleys and Jennings' tricorn is shot from his head, but he is on unharmed. The passing men move on as the officer that had witness the Baron being shot, kneels beside the man, undoing his collar to let him breath easier and helping Jennings cover up the wound.

"We need a bandage and now," the officer states, but where would they get one?"

"Sir, hold the wound, please!" Jennings pleads and the officer does as Jenning removes his hand and undoes his tunic and vest, revealing bandages around his upper torso that when removed, reveal Jennings to be a woman.

"Use this sir!" the now revealed woman soldier states, "I washed them just prior to the attack. They should be clean enough!"

"Aye," Bruce rasperly manages out, "I care not Captain Hopps, but I need to be standing for the men."

"Yes Major General," the man and Jennings tie the wound close.

"Your top Jennings, look presentable as a soldier, soldier," Captain Hopps orders to the woman.

"Yes sir!" the woman quickly redresses and grabs her holed tricorn and puts it on as Captain Hopps is handed the general's tricorn by a passing soldier who stops to help with three others.

A final volley, but a battle cry followed by.

"NICHT MEHR! NICHT MEHR!" the Teutonic voice shouts high, "WE SURRENDER! WE SURRENDER!"

"Take them prisoner!" Bruce calls out as strongly as he can as he holds onto Jennings and Hopps as the soldiers around them mask how bad he is with their bodies.

The surviving Hessians had retreated behind some barrels. They had fired one final volley that did little harm. One man had been caught on the cheek by a passing ball, but on the whole, he would only have a scar for life at worse.

The Patriots had readied a bayonet charge and when seeing the full size and breadth of their foes, the Hessians surrendered.

This wasn't their war to begin with. Why did they have to die for some English monarch?

**XXXX**

**Medical Camp**

**October 15th, 1781 AD**

**XXXX**

"He is weak Captain Hopps," Jennifer Hanson informs her former officer, "You cannot be too long, doctor's orders I'm afraid," and indeed, she knows full well, that the Baron would love nothing more than to converse for long hours with his officers and men.

"We were told he had been recovering?" Captain Hopps approaches his general's bed.

"He has," Ms. Hanson informs the man, "But sadly, such was the wound that he will be bedridden for some time."

"I see," Captain Hopps is fair, but stern faced with sandy hair pullback into a tail and two grey eyes to see the world.

Like many of the officers of the Noble Regiment, he has renounced his Nobility Status for being a Freeman. Then again, most of them were Nobles in name only and were not much different from commoners and merchants in terms of actual status and wealth. As such, it had proven hard to keep them loyal to the Crown Across the Sea, when they were treated as though they were mere commoners of conquered land than colonists of a great empire, let alone Nobles within that empire.

"Private Jennings? Captain Hopps?" Bruce is still fevered from his wound as his body struggles to recover.

"Miss Jennifer Hanson, General Baron Bruce," the woman gently corrects only for the Baron to make a dismissive sound.

"Until I muster you out, it is Hanson Jennings, Private," he sternly warns and the two beside him share a smile at his stubborn attitude.

"Sir," Captain Hobbs' grey eyes dance with merriment, "The French have arrived and the Regiment has been removed from the line to rest."

"The French?" the wounded man's eyes widen in surprise, "How? When? Why?"

Captain Hobbs gently holds his wounded general's shoulder to keep him from rising. The wound is bad enough. They don't need it to be worse now.

"The French Crown recognized our fight and has been moving troops and resources to help us since last year some time," Captain Hobbs gently reports, "They struck in the south first, to the islands in the Caribbean. They surprised the British there and then sailed north, blockading the English fleet attempting to relieve their forces in Yorktown."

"Troops?" Bruce fears as though his fever is making him hear things.

"They landed an army slightly smaller than ourselves," the smiling Hobbs reports, "The line has been shortened in thanks to them, so more men may now rest."

"We've won," Bruce quietly declares as sleep takes hold of him and for the first time, in a long time, he sleeps soundly, peacefully, to rest and greet the new day.

"Captain Hobbs," it is the lieutenant from the assault, Forsythe and he looks severe, "The Redcoats have counterattacked the French and taken two positions, but appear to be contained and the French are pushing them back even now."

Turning to the Private Jennings, "Find a uniform Private Jennings. You are the general's messenger now," and with that he strode out as Private Jennings responds.

"Yes Captain Hopps," with a salute.

**XXXX**

**Yorktown, Virginia**

**October 31st, 1781 AD**

**XXXX**

"The Lobsterbacks are going to break through!" a soldier shouts as the English try one last, desperate break out.

The Noble Regiment finds itself fending off the very focal point of the attack. Already the men have been forced from their trenches. The English Redcoats climbing out of them as men desperately try to reload and fire a coherent volley.

Captain Hopps lays dead with several others after the failed first attempt to countercharge the English. Lieutenant Forsythe could be heard screaming where he had fallen during the second attempt.

NO!

He's screaming because he's being dragged back harshly by the Redcoats. A couple even poking him with bayonets, draw spurts of blood.

"Those dastards!" a soldier fires right into one of the draggers, felling the man and startling the Redcoats into remembering they are still in battle.

"Hold men! Hold the line!" the men look up to see the Lieutenant General arrive with reinforcements, "We will stop the Redcoats he-" something crashes into his horse from behind just as a bullet removes the epaulette from his shoulder.

"My apologies Lieutenant General!" General Baron Bruce yells over the battle, Private Jennings trying to get a hold of their horse, "We took a Pack Horse and the Private is not a horseman!"

The senior commander of all American forces merely looks to the tear in his shoulder. Had the two not collided with his horse, he may have perished in that moment.

But he hadn't.

"No apologies necessary General Bruce," patting his own shoulder, looking for blood, but only the cloth is torn, "Your sudden arrival has saved my life and I am thankful for that, as we will now _reform the line and prepare to charge!"_

The general's shout sends the men rushing to reform ranks. Private Jennings moving their horse, allowing the Baron to command his Noble Regiment. His sudden and surprising return causing the men to rally at his return.

"Come now men!" Bruce shouts, rallying his men, he can see Forsythe trapped among the enemy, "We will rescue our own, retake our trenches, and drive the the Redcoats into the blue waters of the ocean!"

A great cheer went up as Jennings gets their pack animal under control and soon the order comes down. The ranks are reformed and with a ripple of volley fire is followed by a charge. Jennings guiding their horse forward where they meet with destiny head on.

**XXXX**

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania**

**June 14th, 1784**

**XXXX**

The men and women of the Noble Regiment throw confetti into the air as Baron and Baroness William and Jennifer Bruce exit Independence Hall, a newly wed couple.

The city's celebration is nearly as big as the celebration of the victory at the Siege of Yorktown and again, the larger celebration with the victory at Liberation of New York.

Stepping down the steps, the pair pass their honor guard and enter a carriage to take them to the larger party celebration. The great city turned out in all of its finery. The capital of the new nation still in development. A world changed by a man and a woman at a critical time in war as representatives of all the States, the members of Congress, and their fellow soldiers and officers, including the senior leaders of the Army, all attended this most joyous occasion.

For the pair, it will be a long life of happiness, with a few rough patches to hoe.

But as the city celebrates, they cheer the new couple who are heroes of the Revolutionary War and champions of the rights of men and women.

For with this final union, the war is now officially over as the flag of the thirteen five point white stars assembled in a circle in a blue field, bordered by thirteen alternating red and white stripes flies high above every building in town.

In their carriage, William leans to his wife, "I have but one life to give, I'm glad I had not needed to give it so as many others did."

"So is my life but just one," Jennifer responds to her husband, "But may we be blessed to give both our lives to a family some day."

"Aye," William smiles as the driver guides them through the cheering streets as a green haired woman smiles on with a shake of her head.

"So you barely used it, did you?" the woman gently walks away, smiling as she spots the other Contract she had made, "The both of you relied instead upon your own wits and faith, yet you were not fool enough to forget you had it."

Despite that her conditions were not met… She could not feel resentment.

She got to see an exciting change to the world after all.

"Perhaps there are some things worth living for," the yellow eyed woman speaks quietly to herself as she leaves the party goers to seek out a companion for the night.

**XXXX**

**Wer geht dahin? - Who goes there?**

**Es ist der Feind! - It is the Enemy!**

**HALT und Feuer auf sie! - STOP and Fire on them!**

**NICHT MEHR! NICHT MEHR! - NO MORE! NO MORE!**

**XXXX**

**A/N:**

**Yes, America Hell Yeah! In the Code Geass verse.**

**How will things change?**

**How will they be so much different.**

**And can you let me know what you think of this chapter?**

**Considering I just threw it together in the last four hours. I'd really like to know what people think? Just remember… It's a Prologue.**


	2. Rally Around the Flag

_**The Union Forever**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**Rally Around the Flag**_

**XXXX**

**250 Miles off Midway Atoll**

**March 25th, 1995 AD**

**XXXX**

"_WARDOG WARNING!"_

"Oh great, what now?" the journalist in the backseat tries looks over the ACES II Ejection Seat to see what's up with her pilot, "This is Wardog-1, what's the matter Thunderhead?"

"_Wardog-1 be advised, we have leakers, aircraft type and number unknown,"_ Thunderhead reports as the big E-767 Sentry flies somewhere behind them by a good hundred miles, "_Needless to say, no idea on origin or nationality."_

"Wardog-1 to Thunderhead, you have _got _to be kidding me!" the journalist can hear her pilot complaining, "I'm babysitting nuggets up here!"

"_That's what we think they're after,"_ Thunderhead's response is like ice water down the back of the shirt.

"So beat feet to safety, eh?" Wardog-1 isn't about to complain about that, "Poker, Striker, on me. Cobra, where are you and that rook your playing live fire and grab ass with? Hammer, Batter stay with the rest of the chicklings, we need to do this right or we'll have a massacre on our hands."

"_Poker Rog."_

"_Striker Rog."_

"_Cobra here, we are 157 Miles to your south and turning away to link up with you at Point Y7R3. We're both fueled and armed with full load outs."_

"_Hammer here, we got the kids."_

"_Batter to all puppies, schools over today, let's go home."_

"Thunderhead, you got an escort?" Wardog-1 inquires as he begins to turn and provide a shield to the many still raw recruits fresh from Basic Air Instruction.

"_Don't worry about us,"_ Thunderhead responds as the Sentry maintains its distance, "_We got an escort. Never leave home without it. Best insurance policy in the world after all."_

"Hahaha!" Wardog-1 laughs it up, "And they say you don't have a sense of humor Thunderhead, that's going to be a lot of guys crying in their drinks tonight!"

"_Wardog firm up of possible number,"_ Thunderhead reports instead, "_Possible count is… That's not good, at least 30 hostile Fighters. Possible second group as well. Maybe three. If someone wants a war, they just got one."_

"Only idiots around here looking for a fight, would be Britannia," Wardog-1 growls, "I'm sick of those guys picking fights with us."

"_Squadrons off the ground,"_ Thunderhead reports before a stray message comes across loud and clear as the two sides comms briefly sync.

"_Dammit! I thought Intel said they wouldn't be able to launch so fast? How the hell are these Insurgents going to learn if Intelligence keeps screwing up?!"_

"_Oh good," _one of the rookies gripes, "_We're still Insurgents after how many centuries now?"_

"_Chopper knock it off,"_ Batter orders, "_We all get it. Britannia is still stuck in the BC calendar."_

"_You said it not me!"_ Chopper chuckles as Batter promises to show Chopper how he got his callsign later.

"_Here they come,"_ Thunderhead warns.

"_Cobra!?"_ someone's voice suddenly shouts, "_Cobra's been hit, Blaze engaging!"_

"_Confirm Cobra hit, Blaze engaged," _Thunderhead replies, "_Dammit! Talon-1 we got bandits coming up from below and down from above!"_

"_Talon-1 confirms, we got them Thunderhead, but better make tracks to the ADEZ."_

"_Cobra here, I'm still good, engaging. Confirming Blaze bagged on- make that two band- three Limps in the drink! Good shooting Blaze!"_

"_SHIT! BATTER ENGAGING!"_

"_Edge engaging."_

"_Mustang engaging."_

"_Chopper engaging."_

"_They're all over us, no choice, Aero engaging."_

"_Havoc engaging."_

"_Hammer engaging."_

"_Wardog-1! There's so many!"_

"Shoot them all down Striker."

"_Roger that, Striker engaging._

"_Poker engaging."_

"Hang on back there, it's about to get rough," Wardog-1 runs his passenger.

"I get paid for this," the woman replied, getting her cameras set and ready, "So time to earn my pay and prove we're defensive."

"Good call," Wardog-1 takes his eyes off his reveal mirror as he powers up his F-4S Phantom II's engines, "Let's dance with the angels, Heartbreak-1 engaging."

**XXXX**

Lelouch Lampouge, an effeminate young man of 17 years of age with jet black hair that frames his royal purple eyes and fair colored skin quickly turns off his player and swaps out the LC2D before his door opens.

"Can I help you Milly?" the slightly taller blonde girl shakes her head as she enters the room.

The well endowed girl sighs off to the side,"Really Lulu? Were you watching Surg Proganada again?"

"I'll have you know," Lelouch smiles at his friend as she has this big smile on her face that says, 'What were you watching?', "That there are two sides to a coin and thus the same applies to stories and history."

The dark blue eyed girl only sits on his desk as she hums.

"So why are you in my private sanctuary Milly?" Lelouch leans back in his chair as he notes that obscenely short skirts that get issued to girls these days is being made by the young blonde to ride even higher.

"'Private Sanctuary' Lelouch? Really?" Millicent Ashford giggles at her long time friend and, as proof by the fact she's showing off to him, lover, "Don't you mean your bedroom?" the girl shifts a little more, "I just came to tell you we have a meeting coming up and need to be there- OH!" the blonde cries out as Lelouch makes his move and she can only giggle like the in love school girl she is.

Screw her parents. Her grandfather had given them _his _blessing. Not that her parents could complain much.

Not after a Surg bomb hit their car and killed them or so the 'official' reports say.

As a girl's clothing began to decorate the room, both would be late to their meeting.

**XXXX**

"MADAM SECRETARY!" the orange haired, green eyed Shirley Fenette rounded on her two friends and the boy that is also her not so secret love interest as they entered the Student Council Room, "Why are you two late!?"

Lelouch merely walks to his seat and sits down, before activating his interface and began typing away at the holographic keyboard. He looks distinctly uncomfortable with a slight issue in his walk. Like something happened and he banged his knee… Again.

"What did you do this time Milly?" the dark green haired, indigo eyed Nina Einstein sighs as she would likely have more work to do later.

They all would.

"Looks like the cat got the cream," Rivalz Cardemonde, a blue haired male with grey eyes and the darkest skin tone of the council, being several shades tan darker and also the only other boy on the Student Council.

"Oh, my! Rivalz!" Milly begins, sounding almost scandalous, "How can you ask such a sandal-"

"MADAM SECRETARY!" Shirley interrupts, her face bright red and Lelouch sighing off to the side.

Just another day in the Ashford Academy Student Council.

Days they could only hope, would last forever. Unfortunately, with the long running war, that's simply not the case. Even as they talk, Nina pulls up the latest information about the war.

The latest information from the Underground News Network.

The UNN is the only unplugged news organization that gives the information as it is. None of the usual Imperial Propaganda BS that fills the airwaves or the mixed American broadcasts, though no one complains about the entertainment programs and music. They only deal in fact, not Noble-inspired alternative realities.

"_I'm standing here, just 40 kilometers from the Lighthouse,"_ the UNN reporter reports as a pair of RPI-13 Sutherlands in Urban Warfare Camouflage were maneuvering near the massive American construct that Britannia had been battling to seize for six years now, "_Britannian forces have nearly breached the final defensive lines to allow them begin a direct attack on the Lighthouse and seize it for the Empire."_

"President Harling's dream of peace…" Shirley had seen the truth enough to know what the American leader had wanted before he had been assassinated by Britannian agents.

The others remain quiet as more Knightmare Frames advance into view. The scale of the Orbital Elevator is simply monstrous, yet it has an elegant, tower like function with organic smooth lines and soft edges. Then, in the near background, American Army M23 Striders jump out of their hiding places and begin to open up with Autocannon and Missile fire.

Several Sutherlands are caught by surprise and quickly defeated while others are damaged.

The rest begin to return fire. But these aren't simply, Tankmare Frames, but Mechs. The Strider is the latest version, replacing the older, taller M20 Shadow Cat. Though a literal step down in size and with weaker firepower, the improved mobility and smaller profile has made them more difficult opponents for even seasoned Imperial Knights.

"Man, you got to admit," Rivalz begins while seeing the Striders fighting off the Britannian Sutherlands, "But the Americans know how to make them."

"They do," Lelouch agrees calmly, "But it is inevitable that those Striders are fighting a losing battle."

"Not enough of them?" Rivalz remarks even as a downed Strider's cockpit is purposely shot with a recoilless rifle at point blank range, "Okay that was _SO _wrong there."

"Waste of ammo," even Shirley and Nina could tell that as Milly crossed her arms beneath her ample bust some time ago, "And a fatal move."

Another Strider fired a pair of missiles as distractions, though they hit and fatally destroyed two other Sutherlands, before the heavy gun toting Sutherland could recover and swing that big gun into action, it found itself being literally dismembered by the Strider's Autocannons.

Smoking, the wrecked main body catches fire and explodes.

"Even I can tell that was too close for the Sutherland to be effective with that weapon," Nina shakes her head, the Surges would always get a cocky knight like that.

The victorious Strider is then shot from off camera by a recoilless cannon that puts it down. More Sutherlands roll into view to continue to advance against the few remaining Americans. The Britannians bring overwhelming fire to bear and the Striders go down as smoking wrecks with one completely engulfed and another exploding.

"The second wave," Lelouch indicates the advancing Britannians, "Not as cocky now. Not only are they seasoned, but veterans. They will be careful, but the Americans either have more troops or their defense line is pierced."

As the Britannians begin to secure the area, the American Walkers abandon their wrecked Striders and begin to flee on foot. They grab their wounded comrades and the dog tags of the dead as they flee. Some Britannian foot soldiers trade limited fire with the retreating Americans, but overall, they escape with no further loss.

"Looks like the Lighthouse is ours now," Rivalz pushes back on his chair, "Shame too. I don't think many Nobles can properly operate that thing. Plus you know they're going to renam-"

"_What the hell was that?!"_ the reporter, who had been giving a report on the skirmish before, suddenly shouts as he turns with the cameraman to see a smoking, badly mauled Sutherland topple over after a massive blast tore both an arm and the front armor off the machine, "_Looks like the Americans aren't out yet! More troops coming in!"_

Indeed, there were American machines charging in.

They were in Urban Camo, like everyone with brains would do these days, but they weren't Striders or Tanks or even M17 Tomahawk Knightmare Frames.

Instead, these look like the Americans had finally figured out how to manufacture full fledge Knightmares. They had five fingered hands, actual heads complete with two glowing eyes that had to be some sort of low powered sensor or Fire Director, and the bodies, while broad and coming in at least two different designs, are clearly humanoid proper. They carried a variety of weapons as well and passing by them at high speed was a swarm of missiles.

"_Look out!"_ the cameraman shouts as he and the reporter dive for cover as explosions tear through the Britannian Sutherlands, vehicles, and even the Infantry.

"Okay, what the hell?" Rivalz had almost fallen from his seat at the yelling and explosions.

The cameraman gets his camera back up and supported by several drones with cameras, he's able to provide a startling view of the battle.

Just in time too. An American Knightmare is seen in the air, coming down with a club being swung downward. The Sutherland on the receiving end manages to bring its weapon around, but can't get into position to fire in time. The club makes it first, smashing the Sutherland's head into the main body with such force that the metal not only caves, but bends and flexes, spitting out delicate electronics out the sides as the body recoils.

"Woah," Rivalz breathes.

The Sutherland's weapon fires into the ground as the force of the impact had caused the arms to fumble and a burst of gunfire happens. The legs strain at first to take and absorb the impact, but then the joints simply break in a burst of broken metal and sprays of fluids. The cockpit immediately ejects, but due to damage, it flies off in irregular patterns and crashes into a nearby building.

Another club wielding American Knightmare slams another Sutherland into a building as it passes. The Sutherland tumbles forward, having lost an arm, but is otherwise still operational. Then it gets slammed again into the building with finality by a shield carrying American Knightmare.

Several Sutherlands and vehicles begin a fighting retreat. They fire on the fast moving Americans as they try to hold formation. Then vehicles begin to explode as Knightmares tumble over or back. The fallen Sutherlands reveal large holes in their frontal armor.

"_What we are seeing appears to be a complete turn around,"_ the reporter is still doing his job, "_The Americans have deployed fully matured Knightmares into battle. Heavy combat in our area is likely not the only one of its kind. I would not be surprised if Britannia yet again fails to take the Lighthouse after six years and more than a million soldiers falling to get only this far."_

As more missiles roar in, swarming over the Britannians, the Americans speed through the smoke with better skill and balance than is typical for a Knightmare.

A pair suddenly burst through the smoke, one trading brief fire with a Sutherland with two assault rifles before the Sutherland is overwhelmed by visibly larger American weapons while the other attempts to shoot the second American Knightmare only for it to spin during its charge, go low, and then punch up where there is a bright spark of light and the Sutherland goes lax against the American machine.

Stepping away, the American withdraws a spike from the Sutherland. The Sutherland, unsupported, jerks as the cockpit rockets away before it finally hits the ground. The American machine turns and observes its part of the battlefield.

The cameraman and reporter reveal a massed flight of helicopters overhead, each carrying at least four Knightmares, heading in the direction of the Britannian Forward Lines.

The fight for this section may be over. But the battle isn't. The Americans are now the ones advancing.

Then, like a switch, the feed began to suffer issues. Nina quickly killed the connection. Always when things got tough, the Area Eleven Censors got active. Probably the same globally.

"So…" Rivalz had always been the voice in these times.

"My money is on the Americans winning and likely resecuring their territory around the Lighthouse," Lelouch opinions.

"Same here," Milly and Shirley unison.

"Sucker's bet to think otherwise," Rivalz states before grinning, "How many suckers do-"

"No," is the universal statement from everyone present.

"You guys suck sometimes you know that!" Rivalz complains.

"It is as Rivalz said," Nina agrees, sighing that the Surges had won this time.

"This war has been going on for years," Rivalz sighs as he looks at his homework, a report on the Britannian Empire's victory over Europia United, "I mean, come on. It's been how many years now? At least twenty years."

"Twenty-two years almost," Lelouch replies as he thinks about it, "We weren't even born when the war began. So I don't see why we need to keep fighting the war."

"A waste," Nina says pointedly, but though she says that, she wants all the Surges defeated soon.

Though, even she can see the ineptitude of the higher Britannian leadership. There were idiots in places of power where they shouldn't belong. The UNN had really opened her eyes to the world at large with its live reporting. So the jail time and fines had been so worth it, though she had gotten lucky.

The Viceroy, Third Prince Clovis la Britannia had granted pardons to everyone that had watched UNN at the time of her arrest. The pardons even extended to other lower ranked criminals of very minor offenses. The man did it to honor the late vi Britannia Family on the date of their Fifth Consort's murder. Showing benevolence and understanding to the populace at the time in memory of her.

Lelouch, though he only spoke to Milly on the subject, suspected it had more to do with an embarrassing prison break out, likely conducted by the Americans, to free captured members of the Japanese military still in military prisons, despite the nation's subsequent surrender.

The whole thing, of course, had been successfully suppressed in the news. So no one knew about it. He even considered the idea that OSI was unaware of what happened.

Still, he and Milly were happy to have Nina back safe and sound.

"Whelp!" Rivalz drops back into his seat, his black Ashford Academy school jacket hung up on his chair, "Might as well get back to work," before casting his eyes over at Milly and Lelouch.

"Or start working," Shirley deadpans at the pair as well.

"Okay, okay," Milly is suddenly grabbed by Lelouch and finds herself being dragged over to her chair where she immediately plops down with a pout like a child.

"Don't make me get Sayako," Lelouch threatens and Milly couldn't get her jacket and tie off fast enough to roll up her sleeves and get to work!

**XXXX**

**375 Miles off the coast of Area Eleven, formerly Japan**

**XXXX**

"This is AWACS Sky Keeper to all planes, begin radio silence until the designated time. See you guys at the mess hall when this is all over."

**XXXX**

**Ashford Academy**

**Tokyo Settlement, Area Eleven**

**An hour later**

**XXXX**

Shirley hands over the documents that Rivalz requested after she came back from the filing room. Even with handy and trendy new technology, American-developed in many cases, the school still had paper files. Old Man Ashford believes firmly in having the children of today, learn the tricks of yesteryear, as it would help them long term for the future.

Lelouch types away at his panel. He notes a few glitches in his system, but runs a check while still working, saving more often than not.

Another reason for paper.

Technology breaks. Paper doesn't. It's easier to retrieve a physical hard copy when there is a power outage than a digital.

"Rivalz," Milly calls, her top two buttons undone as she works at her panel, "Where are those reports on last month's food costs? We don't want the student body going hungry. Again."

"Yeah, that was a bad year, wasn't it?" Rivalz replies even as he swipes a finger and sends the data over to Milly's panel from his own.

A third reason for paper.

Paper doesn't suffering glitching or hacking. No random computer whatever happening that could cause data to shift, disappear, or otherwise have something happen to it. Such as the food shortage four years earlier. That was a sloppily made program prone to errors and random mistakes at the worst of times.

Fortunately for Milly and her grandfather, her parents died two weeks later when a Glasgow Air Defense had been knocked off a building and crashed atop their car, killing them either by crushing them or the following explosion.

So, they got a new program. A much better one would be easy to get. So they got a correctly made one to begin with and went from there. Still didn't help with the food shortage, though Lelouch took care of that in his own ways.

Wearing just her own shirt and her tie loosened, Shirley got the next files for everyone.

"Those clubs of horse lovers are taking up a seriously huge chunk of the budget again," Rivalz complains as he passes the info over to Nina and Lelouch for revision and confirmation.

"Horses aren't cheap and the prices went up for some reason grandfather hasn't figured out yet," Milly supplies as she sends off a confirmation to the academy sports teams about needing their updates by the end of tomorrow.

"I'll see where we can squeeze the money from," Nina goes to work, but as always, Rivalz knows his figures and sends the final revision over to Lelouch who begins going through them himself.

"Rivalz," Lelouch suddenly speaks up even as he sends another piece of data to Milly, "Want to see if we can't offset that with some games later?"

"Totally up for it man!" Rivalz chuckles happily despite Shirley's frown.

"You two really should-" the air raid alarms suddenly sound throughout the settlement as automated systems begin engaging incoming missiles, "Get your jackets on! You too Milly, Nina!" the orangnette already has her jacket in hand and one hand slipping through the sleeve.

"Data saved," Nina states as she puts her shoes on and grabs her coat.

"Damn war," Rivaz states as he hurriedly buttons up his coat as the group begin heading for their designated shelter, "Lelouch what are the odds it's just a missile barrage today?"

"Neither high nor low," Lelouch states as the Student Council begins to grab their helmets and flak vests on the way out.

Reuben Ashford would be damned first if he didn't have the students wear some protection when a bombing raid came. Just because it wouldn't matter in a direct hit, _didn't _mean it wouldn't matter in a _near _miss. The first time the students had worn armor, the worst had been one student nearly losing her legs, but doctors had gotten good and new means to save legs and more over the years.

As the Student Council exits their building, a Sutherland Air Defense slides to a stop not more than 10 meters away from them and begins firing its shoulder mounted cannons skyward.

The group of friends make a mad dash to safety. If the Air Defense Knightmares are being deployed, it didn't just mean Iron Rain, but also Thunderbolts!

"Move, move!" a teacher yells at students, just as a Thunderstrike happens and destroys a Sutherland Air Defense.

The responsible Fighter tearing through the skies overhead. The sleek, almost diamond shaped body with its pair of slanted tail fins. The Fighter was finished in a typical Horizon Blue American scheme with Rainy Grey mixed in for good measure.

**XXXX**

"AWACS Sky Keeper to all units, be advised, I'm seeing drift that heading in the direction of Ashford Academy. The academy is off limits, repeat off limits."

"_They got KADs parked on it, shooting at us!"_

"I'm aware Mage-7," Sky Keeper responds, "The order stands."

"_As long as we don't hit the school, it's okay, right?"_

Groaning, Sky Keeper grumbles, "Just… be careful of other hostile fire and keep it as tight as you can, Clown."

"_Roger that!"_

**XXXX**

One of the defending Sutherlands notices too late the Fighters screaming in at odd angles.

The Knight piloting the Sutherland Air Defense tries to respond and reposition, but both Fighters let loose their missiles.

The missiles track good, clean, and on target. The Sutherlands in Ashford Academy are taken out with minimal damage to surrounding facilities. Zero civilian casualties and infrastructure damage.

Now what will go wrong?

One of the Knightmares explodes violently with an ammo detonation and crashes into the academy's gym while shrapnel and debris damage the grounds and some buildings.

Not as bad as they had been worried about.

One of the chemistry labs explodes suddenly.

Spoke too soon.

**XXXX**

**Two hours later**

**XXXX**

"Well, it could be worse, I'll admit to that," Milly states as she surveys the damage from the bombing raid before a small burst of something went off and some debris came raining down.

"Definitely worse," Rivalz agrees while still wearing his helmet and vest and standing next to the now ash and dust covered Milly, helping go over the damage.

"At least it isn't," Shirley breathes in relief as she hands over the data on what was in the burned out building and closes her umbrella.

"Well…" the blonde looks over the damage, ignoring her current state, "No classes would need to be cut, though we'll be pressed for space for a few weeks," Milly notes that the building in question had been needing renovation after it was found to be structurally deficient in some places, "Okay, no major loss. Everything of importance had already been moved and what was lost was just empty classrooms."

All students and staff accounted for too and unharmed.

"If anything that air raid helped push this forward by months, if not a year or two," Milly offhandedly remarks.

For some, an air raid was the end of the world. For others, it was a start of a new world. For everyone else… Somewhere in the middle.

"I wonder if this is how Europia United looked when the war ended?" Rivalz looks over the damage, "Aside from what was left being annexed by America."

"It wasn't annexed Rivalz," Shirley sighs at her friend's tendency to misrepresent things, "'What Britannia didn't take, became independent nations with the Americans providing aid and protection from Britannia.'"

"What she said," Rivalz states much to Shirley's annoyance.

"Mister Cardemonde," Rivalz's history teacher begins right behind the young student councilmember.

"WAGH!" Rivalz jumps a meter away and lands in a funny standing up position.

"I will be making the Demise and End of the EU a major topic for the next month because of what you said," and the man then heads off to do just that.

"Awwww mannnn," Rivalze drops both arms and his head at hearing that.

"You deserve it," Shirley states with her nose up.

**XXXX**

"All systems good Nina?" Lelouch asks as he looks over the girl's shoulder as she types away.

"Yes, no problems here," Nina supplies with a sigh of relief, "I thought our network would be down for a week again."

"America's air raids are getting better and better every time," Lelouch sends a message to Milly who responds that damage assessment is done and the three would be back in their office soon.

"How is Nunnally?" Nina turns in her seat to face the dark hair boy.

"Unharmed," Lelouch lets out a long breath of relief, "Sayako too. Both are in the kitchen making something for us to eat later."

"That's not quite what I asked?" Nina points out.

She could see the bombs and missiles. So some of the effect was lessened. When you can see the world, you can find a way to escape.

When you can't and those sensors meant to cover for the loss of sight get heightened…

"She'll be okay," Lelouch responds after a moment of thought, "We all get jumpy for a while after a raid. Nunnally gets it worse, yes, but she's learned to get by better as well."

"That all we can do, isn't it?" Nina looks down at her hands in her lap.

"We could just ask for a treaty of peace and stop trying to kill each other for a while," Lelouch offers, though Nina snorts very unladylike at that.

"Except for a country that exports only war-material and soldiers to operate them," Nina points out about a certain other country along a desert coast.

"Taken," Lelouch responds before leaning back in his seat, "How are you taking this raid?"

"Better," Nina admits, "I'm still…" she hesitates, "You know," she waves her hand slowly to the world beyond their still unharmed glass windows.

"I often wonder what possessed your parents to send you here," Lelouch sighs off to the side, before smiling to Nina, "Still, I'm glad you're here Nina. You are a part of the team and an important member too."

Nina blushes as she turns her head away. She has always been shy and withdrawn. Yet Milly's earnest, and bold, moves to bring her out of her shell and Lelouch's quiet and patient understanding, she has gotten better. Especially as both Shirley and Rivalz are there too.

Nunnally as well. The blind little girl has been such a princess. More than half the school would bend over for her. They also couldn't use her to get to Lelouch. She was simply too nice and sweet. Too innocent.

Unlike the rest of them, it felt too often.

"We're back," Rivalz announces as the rest of the council rejoins the pair and take their seats.

"Exciting day," Milly mutters as she finally takes her work helmet off and hangs it up next to all of her other helmets and begins wiping her face and arms down, "Damn war."

"Why didn't the Automated Defenses detect the Americans?" Shirley began to go over the papers that they would still need to work on, "They managed to sneak right up and into the Settlement's own airspace without detection."

"I have little doubt," Lelouch reactivates his panel and began to type away to bring up his files, "Someone is in for a load of trouble."

**XXXX**

**Viceroy Palace**

**Government Complex, Tokyo Settlement**

**That very moment**

**XXXX**

"_**HOW THE HELL DID THE AMERICANS GET THROUGH OUR AUTOMATED DEFENSES?!"**_ the Viceroy roars at his assembled staff and councils.

One of the officers in charge of Air Defense stands up to speak.

"We determined they found a wavelength in our systems and used it to send back false reads," the man states as activates a personal node to connect to the terminal before him and bring up the data.

The graph shows sudden computer errors across the entire Settlement just minutes before the attack. The errors spike just moments before the attack and then vanish altogether as systems shut down. Before that, an odd amount of errors were happening at random intervals and would have normally been ignored, if not for the sheer number of them happening and the wave effect induced by the approaching intruders.

"This graph shows a series of computer errors just prior to attack," the man states as the graph shifts and adjusts, "We can see that there is an induced wave effect that starts about 25 minutes before the attack itself. Just a few systems on the edge, but as the American decreased the range, the induced wave truly begins and the errors begin to multiply rapidly. By the time the actual attack begins, the systems closest to the Americans are already freezing up and shutting down."

"Can we use that to detect them in the future?" one officer in the ground forces inquires.

"I'm afraid not," the air defense officer slowly shakes his head, "The Americans fried all the systems nearest to them before they switched off their jamming, whatever it is. Not very economical and more importantly, the Americans always perform After Strike Recon and Intelligence gathering. They'll know before the day is over."

"What system did they use?" the portly and bald headed General Bartley inquires next, looking curious.

The officer shrugs, "First time we've ever _heard _of this happening. We're speaking with the local OSI branch and hoping we get some details oon," the officer sighs though, "But don't hold your breath. It is OSI we're talking about here."

The graph then changes to the complexity of the jamming and the details of the raid in several separate screens, allowing everyone present to draw in data they feel they need detail while being able to keep up with the flow of information.

"Geez, they know how to attack," one naval officer mutters too loudly, "We're lucky most of the fleet had sailed for an exercise to the south."

"We believe that the attack was set while the fleet was away," the air defense officer adds as he indicates a vector of the attack, "If the fleet had been here, this vector would have been much more seriously contested."

"Would have broken up the attack," Bartley notes with some annoyance, "The attack couldn't have originated anywhere but Southern California with its massed airfields and bases able to support this kind of attack."

"That would mean the attack had to have been launched at least a day ago," the blonde haired prince notes as he indicates the possible flight paths, "They couldn't have flown here from there in anything less than 16 hours prior to their attack, not including the time they would have needed to form up and prepare their attack."

After more than two decades of war, the Americans had not been worn down. Not like the EU after during the Twenty-Five Year War. The conflicts between America and Britannia have been long and bloody at times, but for 22 years, this the first they've fought for this long between the two of them.

"What is Belka's condition?" Bartley inquires, worried about the European Front.

The Americans had been making headway. They took down the Grand Archduchy of Zeland, liberating the former Luxemburg, Belgium, and Netherlands only three months ago.

"They made gains moving up from Italy into the Principality of Eylstadt, which defected, to the American-led coalition and they were able to sweep into southern Belka," the military intelligence officer reports with his own data now for the room to see.

"We're holding EuroBritannia, but our frontline is not well," an officer remarks, "How is AfricaBritannia?"

"Sheer hell," the intelligence man brought up the latest information.

Africa is a mess of moving lines inside disputed areas. Britannia red was shoved back on numerous fronts, but so was American blue. The main American base of Liberia had not fallen since the Americans had founded their first colony there. A colony they later granted independence too when the colonials leadership had asked for it.

The Americans could be so strange and illogical.

"Well," one minister mutters, "That's helpful."

"AsiaBritannia?" Bartley silently agrees.

"AsiaBritannia?" another minister laughs, "We're the AsiaBritannia and we're nothing more than a joke."

"What passes for AsiaBritannia," the intelligence officer didn't let himself get sidetracked, but even he agrees, "Has seen minimal attacks. Not since the start of the war has the Pacific seen much action, save for the acquiring of Area Eleven. We do recommend doing something about the American base at Wake Atoll."

"Start the what?" Clovis sighs, "Tenth? Eleventh Battle of Wake Island?"

"Fourteenth actually Your Highness," Bartley supplies with a worn tone, "The Americans only use it as an outpost now that the war has shifted back to Europe and Africa is so intense right now."

"An outpost that performs SIGINT and other detection and tracking functions," the intelligence officer points out, "There is also the airstrips and the base is likely where the damaged raiders landed if they couldn't make it back to their home bases."

"That makes it vital we take it out," Clovis sighs, he honestly hates war and dealing with these fools, well most of them are foolish to him, but the war had seen to even Clovis learning to be mindful.

He didn't want to end up like a few others who hadn't been mindful.

Plus… There is his side project he has going. The last thing he needs, is the Americans to find out. That would be fatal for him at best and under best circumstances.

Just _not _from the Americans.

They _pale _compared to His Majesty.

His Lord Imperial Father would make sure his punishment is not merciful. That it wouldn't be quick. That it would not only be drawn out, but humiliating.

And more…

Which meant that defection to the Americans would be to his benefit of a long life of being a simple artist.

But that simply wouldn't do. No they would deal with Wake Atoll/Island/Whatever. They would remove it from the map if they had to. Permanently.

Suddenly several explosions across the Settlement occur. Sighs fill the room.

"It's the Elvens again," a staffer near a window reports, even as he can _just barely_, with a heavy emphasis there, make out Knightpolice fighting it out with some Technicals and a couple of 'largely' operational early RPI-11 Glasgow models.

"Let's deal with the fallout of the air raid and then reconvene," Clovis pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes that, like the majority of his siblings, match their father's Royal Purple eyes, "In the meantime, draw up attack plans for all the American bases that could be used to support attacks and raids on Area Eleven," Clovis orders, "I would rather have them as _our _outposts and bases instead."

"Yes, Your Highness!" everyone stood to attention as Clovis la Britannia steps up and then leaves the meeting to go back to something more worth his time than this stupid business he has to be engaged in far too often.

As Clovis turns a corner, a servant passes him a message. An annoyed looks flashes across his face as he nods at the servant who then departs. Clovis glares at the messenger's back as he or she or it leaves.

Whoever this nuisance is that is helping him, tends to want far too many updates.

**XXXX**

**Intelligence Interception Center**

**Wake Island, Wake Atoll**

**February 26th, 2017 AD**

**2243 hours**

**XXXX**

"What is up with this signal?" Colonel Gunther Blackburn frowns at the data hovering before his face.

"We've seen it only a few times," Second Lieutenant Charles Kensworth reports, "We've reported it to both the OSS and CIA and even they're scratching their heads. The signal originally only appeared between Pendragon and a few, extraordinary remote locations, but has now largely been found in Asia, namely China."

"The Taklamakan Desert somewhere," Colonel Blackburn frowns as he reads the data, "So much communication with Japan. What is going on?"

"We don't know sir," Lieutenant Kensworth replies, "But we intercepted a partial transmission. It's crap, though, in quality."

"Play it," the colonel orders.

The lieutenant dutifully does.

"_I told you -buzz- dangerous -screech- We know the -static- on -hiss- Island."_

"_-buzz- aware Nephew Clovis -screech- but I fe -buzz- is secured, correct? We -static-"_

"_She is -static- no wor -buzz- He will no -static- out. The material is -screech- holding her -hiss- and is -hiss- hospital under -buzz- they -hiss- told it -static- Poison Gas to prevent discovery -buzz-_

"_Good, good -screech- call again. -static-"_

"Poison Gas?" Colonel Blackburn had been able to make that out uncomfortably well.

"We believe they are using the claim as a front to hide something else," the lieutenant explains, "We think a woman is being held prisoner. We are unsure of this 'Nephew' business, but our digging in what files we can immediately look at did reveal that Emperor Charles zi Britannia had an older brother," the man produces from a rather old file a picture of two infants in their mother's arms, the late previous Empress Helena zi Britannia, "Twins to be exact."

"Death?" Blackburn doubts there is a report of it.

"There's nothing sir except our files," Kensworth replies.

"Figures," the older man rubs at his chin as he leans back in thought, "We better buck this one up to the top," the man leans forward and steeples his hands as his elbows rest on his desk, "Stamp a CRITIC on it and kick it upstairs. All the way to DC no less. Let Langley and Bethesda worry about it."

"Too high for us, colonel?" the lieutenant looks peeved at being denied to look this over more in depth.

"No," the colonel turns in his chair to view the holo-image of the world outside, even this late at night, "I don't believe this will be leaving us for a long time, but we've too little to work on."

The lieutenant now understands.

"You want to kick it upstairs so they can find more pieces for us to play with down here," Kensworth nods. There are reasons lieutenants are junior officers and Blackburn has proven why he's both a colonel and a senior officer, "I'll get the gang together to comb our available data and see about clearing that mess up for a better audio."

"Good," Blackburn frowns before remembering something, "I recall it now. I believe the name started with a 'V.'"

"Sir?" the junior officer frowns.

"The Emperor's twin brother," Blackburn thinks it over. That's right! He did a report on forgotten Imperial Royals, "Victor zi Britannia, the elder brother, he disappeared over 50 years ago. Born about 1955 AD to the First Crown Prince Hector zi Britannia and his wife Helena zi Britannia. Both assassinated by ultra conservatives, derailing and ending peace talks to finally end the conflicts between our nations."

"Oh-kay," the second lieutenant blinks at that information.

Smiling to the junior officer, "I did a report on Forgotten Imperials Royals back in training."

"Oh," the gold loot shrugs, "That helps. A lot really as I know where to begin."

"Then get started," Kensworth knows Blackburns dismissal to do just that when it came out.

Once the younger officer is away, Blackburn sighs as he opens his desk and takes out a picture.

It was of his family. Taken decades ago. It didn't tell much other than that he had had a family.

If it hadn't been for the famed 40th 'Golden Wolverines' Infantry Regiment that had saved him and him alone, he wouldn't be here now.

And yet that begs the question...

"How many more secrets are hidden?" it had been the driving force to enlist in the Army and join intelligence.

To find the truth of it all and why his family had been slaughtered like it had been.

"And we still find more secrets we never thought possible," such as that base in Chinese territory, which was extraordinarily odd to say the least!

**XXXX**

**Lelouch's Bedroom**

**Ashford Academy Council Building, Ashford Academy**

**Tokyo Settlement, Area Eleven (Japan)**

**That same time**

**XXXX**

Lelouch stepped out of his bathroom, fully ready for bed. His teeth brushed, mouth rinsed, and he even floshes. To say nothing of actually taking a long, relaxing bath.

Though, tonight, he indulged and took that bath in the massive open air bath complex that Milly had managed to con her grandfather into getting built.

"Finished there lover boy?" Milly playfully paws in his direction like a cat.

"I am," Lelouch states as he removes and folds his towel, placing it in the wash for Sayako tomorrow, "How about you?"

Unencumbered by clothing, Milly shows that she has bloomed in a way to make jealous the women of the world that have to pay to have what she has as she crawls across Lelouch's bed to lean over and kiss him on the lips.

"What do you think?" she purrs like a cat and Lelouch chuckles before leaning in to nuzzle neck and smell her scent.

"I predict, with a 100 percent accuracy, that we're going to have less sleep than we should and be more tired than we should tomorrow," Lelouch states before lightly nipping on Milly's shoulder, much to the blonde's pleasure.

"Lelouch," she responds breathlessly, as she and Lelouch have already talked things over.

But before her lover could respond, there is a knock at the door.

"Sayako?" Milly recognizes the knock and worries.

"Here," Lelouch pulls open a drawl and hands Milly a night dress as he pulls out a pair of pants for himself and heads over to the door.

Milly, decent, waits as Lelouch checks to make sure he's decent as well. Then with a nod, he opens the door to reveal the sleeping kimono clad form of Sayako and the pajama clad form of his younger sister, Nunnally Lampouge.

"Pardon the light night intrusion Master Lelouch, but," Sayako didn't even need to finish.

Lelouch opens the door fully and Milly makes room on the bed.

"Thank you Sayako," Lelouch sags with some relief as the Japanese woman wheels in Nunnally.

"My pleasure Master Lelouch," Sayako replies.

"Hey, Lulu," Milly begins before making a gesture with her hand.

"A sleeping party?" Lelouch looks around, "A bit late, but I don't think a movie would be out of the question."

"I cannot impose," the woman declares, "It would not be proper."

"Sayako," Lelouch takes his sister's left hand into one of his own before gently taking Sayako's left hand in his free hand, "You are more than a maid and friend. Please, stay the night."

"Sayako?" Nunnally turns her blind countenance to the woman.

The woman sighs, but smiles, "Very well."

"And I got just the movie!" Milly smiles as she goes to the small kitchenette and begins preparing popcorn, "Nothing like _**Shen Xi, Maiden of Destiny**_!"

"I do like that story," Lelouch chuckles as the four begin to settle in.

Milly on the left side of the bed, when she returns with the popcorn, Nunnally between her and Lelouch, and then to Lelouch's right is Sayako.

Really, the bed is too large for one person. Little wonder that Lelouch likes having another body in bed with him. Milly is much the same with her own oversized bed. Why they had to have such oversized beds was told to them as being a fascate of Britannian life.

Sayako didn't mind as much.

Company as one slept is as good a tonic as medicine to sleep easily through the night.

That and Lelouch always looks so cute with his face so red when he wakes up after face planting himself at some point in her chest.

She had to get her small teases in life somewhere!

**XXXX**

**Somewhere in Central Europe**

**XXXX**

American soldiers dig their trenches. Today proved to be the end of their advance into Belka. Stopping short in the Grand Duchy of Hesse, near the city of Offenbach. So here is where they will remain for the time being as plans are made and supplies and reinforcements brought up.

About two klicks away, Hessians in Britannian service can be seen improving their own earthworks as well. Both sides peering at one another and digging in for a time being.

The Hessians begin placing Anti-Armor Missiles and Rocket Launchers while the Americans do the same, but also laboriously bring up and emplace Anti-Armor Artillery.

The heavy guns are sighted in on the enemy position and covered in netting and other means of concealment. While the big guns, for their use, are cumbersome, no one can deny their power. A well trained crew can easily deal with Britannian vehicles and Knightmares over open terrain and though this area is somewhat hilly, with forests, it is also a generally flat.

The trees are also not an issue. Quite the opposite. There is an open field between the combatants, but neither side builds directly on the borders. Artillery would obviously start raking those areas first to gauge shell fall and hits with pre-determined and sighted firing coordinates before working back into the deeper areas.

The trees offer concealment to bring up and hide the guns. As well as the extensive creation of defenses. Knightmares have changed war so much, the need to actually prepare more than basic defenses, such as simple Foxholes, Trenches, and Machine Gun Nests, to deter even a minor thrust by Knightmares.

The work will go on all day and then the soldiers would have to find some comfort in their new 'homes' for the foreseeable future.

No warm bed, food, or bath for them. It would be cold field rations, helmets full of cold water to shave and wipe with, and the freshly turned, but cold earth to sleep on in their defensive positions.

And if hostile Artillery begins raining down on them, then they can't even climb out of to go back in the rear and relieve themselves.

A war running for 22 years.

And no end in sight.

**XXXX**

**A/N:**

**Not too heavy on anything. Just an introduction. The story will be picking up soon. It will still be focusing on Lelouch and company, with portions dedicated to what else is going on in the world.**

**This isn't going to be a story that would be right out of the box where America saves the mother effing day.**

**Instead, more of the effects of America being around. The tempo of war and combat would definitely be different. But so would technological developments.**

**We'll be seeing more soon enough. Plus, there will be direct appearances by Americans and US Forces-Pacific in the story. So it's not like there won't be a lot of Stars and Stripes being carried shore to shore for America.**

**But yeah. I'm not going to do a Fallout America. For one, thing, they got their butts beat. The USA I'm writing won't be so easily beaten, but neither will Britannia win!**

**The differences between Nobles and Citizens, is that Citizens know its a good day to die when they know the reason why, while Nobles would rather have someone else die for them or in their place so they can run and hide.**

**Anyways, Chapter Two is already partially formed in my head. Details will need be built. So do please be kind and patient and leave an actual review. I'll even look at REASONABLE requests.**

**I'm looking at my usual so-called critics. Hopefully, they've all relocated somewhere else for life. Preferably a six by six concrete room, but that's likely only in my dreams.**

**Except for that Commie nuisance. Hopefully he was dumb enough to let a US Marine shoot him in the ass in Africa. Again, most likely a dream, but we can all have those.**

**Anyways, let me part with some words of wisdom:**

"**Better Dead than Red, because the former is kinder and faster than the latter."**


	3. Freedman

_**The Union Forever**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Freedman**_

**XXXX**

**Student Council Office**

**Ashford Academy, Tokyo Settlement, Area Eleven**

**April 16th, 2072 ATB**

**0923 hours JST**

**XXXX**

Lelouch sat in his undershorts as he typed absentmindedly at his terminal. In the background, he could hear Sayoko getting everyone's clothes dividy up. Their game of Strip Poker had been interrupted by the Japanese maid, who had been empowered by Rueben K. Ashford himself to stop this very thing from happening if she ever came across it.

And judging from the sudden triple _**-whack!-**_ that he heard, followed by three feminine cries of pain, Milly, Shirley, and Nina had not been fast enough to get their clothes organized and back on.

Rivalz puts down Lelouch's clothes next to the taller male, "And just-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Rivalz," Lelouch thumbs over his shoulder at the grown woman glaring daggers at the blue haired boy.

"YIKES!" Rivalz dives behind his desk.

"Well," Milly pats down her skirt, making it look nice, "Looks like that's the end of that game."

"It most certainly _better _be," Sayako didn't mince her words.

Poor Shirley had to be held up by Nina because of how close she came to flashing the boy she likes. If Sayako had come in a second later, Nina would be topless with Shirley following suit. The orangnette's face didn't seem to get any paler with all of the blood still flowing up into it.

Much to Nina's irritation.

'_Why am I the smallest in the group?'_ the greenette whimpers quietly in thought.

"We're linked!" Lelouch suddenly announces as he knocks back his chair and stands up.

"We are?!" Rivalz sticks his head up, and where he got his flak helmet is a good question no one is immediately asking.

"It's Lulu!" Shirley suddenly comes alive, "Of _course _he'll get the connection Rivalz!"

"Good defense there Shirley," Milly smiles like the Cheshire Cat, and that tends to scare everyone, but her grandfather, "But let's roll with this now!"

"Yes," Nina gulps nervously as she grabs her own headset.

"Brother?" Nunnally 'looks' to her brother, "Are you sure?"

"Only one way to find out, Nunnally," Lelouch eases his sister's headset onto her head. His own heart is racing at the very thing Nunnally is worried about. If it doesn't work, it will tear at the both of them, especially Nunnally. They can only hope that this actually works.

That's all they really can do.

As Lelouch checks everyone, he quietly slips out an extra headset and hands it to Sayoko, who looks on surprised.

"You might find your family," Lelouch tells her gently with a smile, causing Sayako to blink before looking at the device.

"My family is here Master Lelouch," the Japanese woman brings her hand to push it away, but Lelouch takes her hand and gently places it on the device instead.

"I know," he smiles easily before stepping away and going to quickly dress and place his own on.

With a sigh, Sayoko finds a good spot and lays down comfortably. This device is best used when the user is in a prone position on their back. Once she slides it down, the world begins to light up differently. A moment later, she finds herself being pulled through a dark grey and white-grey checkered colored tunnel.

She blinks and looks around.

Gone is the soft hues and vibrant character of the plush, wooden finish of the Council Club Room. Instead, the area around her looks like a fantasy medieval town with sci-fi elements. The building a mix of classic wood, homely red brick, and tasteful steel and glass structures. The buildings and their designs ranging from what appeared to be simple homes and stores with open air stalls and vendors hawking their goods to the latest in designs for malls, hotels, movie theaters, and even a large theme park.

The streets are paved with stone and cobble with some walkways raised high to allow people to ride simple beltways and even small, open air trams.

Nearby, Sayoko could see people climbing onto horses, bikes, into carriages, and even into vehicles to head out on nearby trails and roadways.

But what surprised her the most, is the sunny sky and the beautiful trees, flower rows, and gardens and that she can smell and feel the very world that she finds herself in.

She can see people having picnics and moments for romance. Others are playing sports or even a simple board game. A few are even flying kites of all things!

It's also a riot of appearances for people and...

"Animals?" Sayako blinks as a white rabbit with black ear tips wearing a green scarf, black vest, and some kind of necklace while speaking with a strong Scottish accent went hopping by.

"Sayako," Lelouch and Milly are standing next to her with smiles.

Lelouch is in his normal appearance, as is Milly. Both are wearing clothing that would not look out of place anywhere in the world. They only look more significantly advanced than what is typical.

Lelouch is in a black shirt and red jacket with black slacks and shoes, which is how he typically dresses, though now his clothes sport purple trim and patches as well as there being a thin luminous purple line running around the both sides of Lelouch's head that are larger at the front, becoming nearly triangular.

Milly by contrast is wearing a light yellow shirt with a blue sundress and sandals. Her design is sleeveless and if Sayako had to guess, it would definitely invoke a Summer feel. The blonde Ashford heiress is also carrying a small light yellow purse and sun hat. The girl had even added some blue eyeshadow around her eyes to give her a slightly more drawn look to her eyes.

"My," Milly giggles behind her free hand, "Sayako, don't you look nice," shooting Lelouch an agreeing glance before giggling again.

Blinking, Sayako looks down at herself and gasps.

Gone is the maid's uniform and in its place, is a summer yukata of white and pink with a yellow obi. Sayoko even discovers she has getas on in place of her heels! And as she looks about herself, she even finds a fan tucked into her obi alongside a closed umbrella being held in one hand and a purse in the other.

Looking to voice that she positively could not wear such a thing, Sayoko gasps instead for between them, her head turning to take in everything with eyes wide open and standing on her own two feet with legs that twist and turn and lift themselves up and move only so awkwardly…

...is Nunnally.

"I can see," the girl mutters, "I can see," she states more loudly, "I CAN SEE!" she jumps for joy with tears in her eyes as she lands and twirls before jumping into her brother to wrap her arms around him, all the while some people turn their heads to the commotion.

"What's up with her?" one guy asks.

"I can… walk…" Nunnally steps back and lifts up the hem of her pink skirt to see her white socks and pink button shoe-clad feet supporting her as her legs shift and her knees bend with her movements.

"Oh, poor dear," a woman remarks while her boyfriend winces.

"Yeah," the boyfriend sighs sadly, "I hope it wasn't the war. Too many people end up like that these days."

"Did you hear the official casualty count for the Lighthouse?" a passing pair are talking after observing the pink and white clad girl.

"Incredible, simply incredible!" another person states, seeing Nunnally, "Who knew that we could develop such technology now? We might even be able to cure blindness before the century is over."

And Nunnally is turning, taking them all in as well as the scenery, sights, and the colors.

She can not only hear them, but see them too now. She can even turn on her feet to look at them. She can even walk up to them if she wanted too.

That and if Lelouch would actually let her go.

But she smiles and playfully bats at her big brother's hands, holding her firm, least she gets carried away.

"Ah!" an older gentleman notices them, "I take it you all are new to the Ether?" his accent is British, some place in the Midlands in all likelihood, "I'm Dr. Rodger Weller," the man introduces himself with a smile, "I take her she's been a little unfortunate until now, hasn't she?"

Despite his words, he shows great understanding and care. Even though they just met him, he is being extraordinarily polite to them. Even immediately understanding and showing compassion for Nunnally's Real Life condition.

They never really meet people like him in the Settlement.

"Yes sir," Lelouch nods, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes, "We were hoping and-"

"Say no more my boy!" Dr. Weller laughs heartily, "Say no more! For the Ether was designed for this very thing originally. To give the blind the ability to see. The paralyzed the gift of mobility. It was meant to restore their sense of worth and pride in these very troubled times of hardship and increasing demands," the Britain lets out a saddened sigh, "I know personally the cost of this damn war, so any help to others, is beyond difficulty if it can help them in the smallest ways possible."

Humbled, the siblings bow lightly, "Thank you," they both intone as the older man nods and smiles.

"How polite, the both of you," the man adjusts his glasses, before noticing the time, "Damn the time. Pardon me, but while I would like to stay and chat some more, but I really need to be on my way. Giving a lecture today. History and the importance of it and all that, especially in regards to the realm of science and creativity. Plus a bit about what separates Britannia and America. Hopefully it will be a good hit with people eager to learn and expand their horizons!"

Finishing with a good air punch across his chest, Dr. Weller heads off to his lecture.

"A lecture on the history and differences?" Rivalz, dressed in a blue sports shorts combo with blue sunglasses resting on his nose, makes a humming sound.

"You're hoping to get some help for your essay," Shirley, dressed in a light green blouse with orange vest, light green sunglasses frame with orange lens resting atop her head, and orange skirt with green heels, deadpans and threatening Rivalz with her light green purse as the boy follows through with an exaggerated sigh.

"I believe it will be useful," Lelouch smiles to everyone, "So let's go. We might even learn something about the Ether if we stick around and speak with Dr. Weller afterwards."

"Good point," Nina blinks, that is a valid reason.

The green haired girl is in a green dress with a light brown sweater tied at her waist and a simple sunhat on her head. Her shoes are also brown as well with green socks.

'_Plus,'_ Lelouch thinks to himself as his thoughts turn another way, '_We might learn more about the state of the war from the American side. I need information. To go through with my goals.'_

After a group agreement, they follow where Dr. Weller went. It didn't take them long to find his lecture at a massive auditorium thrice the size of their own school in sheer size. In addition, it is literally lit up in neon signs and colors that mark and explain the topics of today's lectures. When the group enters after buying their tickets, they find that the entire facility is a multi-storied design that is little different from most such lecture auditoriums. They also find themselves with a massive amount of people already inside.

"It's Dr. Weller, I can't believe how lucky we are," one attendee remarks as the group finds their seats after getting passes.

Which thanks to Lelouch's insanely good luck… They got for free.

"I know what you mean," the attendee's friend and fellow attendee replies, "Dr. Weller is a leader in multiple fields and was one of the leading designers for much of the technology inside the Lighthouse. Guy's a certified genius, if a bit eccentric."

"Yeah, no kidding and yet that makes him surprisingly approachable," the first attendee remarks.

**XXXX**

**A 4 Highway**

**Outside Strasbourg, France**

**April 16th, 2017 AD**

**0539 hours CEST**

**XXXX**

A military convoy consisting of four Armored Cars, three Tank Destroyers, six Humvees, and three Staff Cars with a single Limousine. Above the formation, several gunships fly overhead with Assault Helicopters carrying both Infantry and Knightmares. All along the A 4 Highway, patrols are being carried out by Combined Arms units, Recon units, and Special Forces.

All to protect the occupants of the four lightly armored vehicles that are the core of the ground convoy.

Though, in the opinion of the single highest ranking officer in the convoy…

"It's a waste," Maréchal de France Gene Smilas mutters just loud enough for his protege to hear him as the greying green haired marshal sighs as he travels to the Parlement de l'Europe Libre meeting in Strasbourg.

The blond hair young woman in the vehicle with him turns her eyes over to the man that had been the guiding force behind much of her military career. If not the sole reason behind her taking the path of a military officer. Especially, given her background and all that she had lost when she was but a child.

"Oui, Maréchal," Commandant Leila Malcal agrees, "But the Americans believe that while Euro Britannia is fighting with a sense of respect and honor, the Emperor himself is not so kind."

"Hmm…" the aging leader of the French Army hums to himself as he returns to his traveling meal consisting of the same rations his soldiers eat on the frontline, "I need to have a word with the Quartermaster about the quality of our rations."

"It could use a bit more flavoring and sturdiness," Leila agrees as she eats her own, though, admittedly, it might already be a lost cause as 'Quartermaster Corps' and 'EdibleRations' do not mix.

"Not too much of the latter or no one would be able to eat it," Maréchal Smilas states with a bit of a wry tone and a smile tugging at his lips.

"Sir," the young woman looks for a means to broach the topic that bothers the elder man.

"My feelings about les Américains, eh?" he knows her too well as the young woman briefly stops eating before resuming so, "Tell me Leila, want do you recall of your history courses concerning les États-Unis d'Amérique?"

"I recall what we were taught, save for what I missed or forgotten," light purple eyes showing their curiosity towards the question.

"I believe that Amérique began the course it is on," Maréchal Smilas begins his lecture, which would also hopefully help pass the time until they reach Strasbourg, "When the War of 1812 occurred and Elizabeth III tried desperately to reclaim the now Democratic ex-Colonies of her failing empire."

"That was the Canadian War, wasn't it sir?" Leila tilts her head in some confusion as she tries to realign all of the facts.

"Not too far off," the man nods, "It was part of the larger war when the Britannians were forced out of their formerly native Britain."

"The war was after their eviction, wasn't it?" Leila frowns.

"Indeed it was," Smilas confirms, "Even though the Emperor of France had taken her homeland alone, that Elizabeth III was known for her oft saying of '_I never forget a slight against my honor.'_"

"Thus the American-Britannian Wars," Leila notes sourly and even more so, "The nigh destruction of District of Columbia, especially the American Federal Capital," toying with her eating utensils as she could just imagine the flames and carnage easily enough, having witnessed it too often in the war, "Washington."

"Indeed," Smilas drinks some of his present wine, a little diversion and a common one amongst French military personnel, "After the Storm that Saved Washington, the Americans regathered their strength and pursued the forces that nearly wiped their capital off the map. After the overwhelming destruction and even the breaking of agreements and treaties, the Americans wanted to be done with the Britannians."

"The war would drag on until 1817," Leila notes, "With the signing of the Treaty of New Lomond."

Chuckling, Smilas knows the Americans love a good irony to drop upon their foes. It drills in deep the defeat of their opponents. Such as the signing of the Treaty of New Lomond before the Obelisk of the Noble Regiment, the monument dedicated to the Nobles that defected to the American Patriot Cause in their Revolutionary War.

"Indeed," the teacher nods with a smile to his pupil, "The Americans rallied their strength and replenished their forces. Elizabeth III realized far too late how petty of a woman she could be. The victories the Americans scored leading up to Siege of Baltimore and the Battle of New Orleans, enabled them to gain the pride and satisfaction to finally crush the Britannian Army and Navy and force them out of North America altogether, an event made possible by Britannian's own mistreatment of Native Americans that drove them into the arms of the new nation who recognized them in the aftermath of the actions they had found."

Neither had to say what those actions were.

It is regularly on the news and showing no signs of stopping.

"You believe that-" Leila finds herself being interrupted.

"That the les Américains began the road to becoming the power they are now with that war, hmm?" he is the teacher after all, but he shakes his head, "Non," Smilas places his wine into a holster for it, "They would not begin there, but were awakened to the possibility of that path."

"Sir?" now she's all confused.

"Les Américains actually prefer being left alone to their own devices," Smilas informs his pupil of that often overlooked fact, "They prefer to be left alone to follow their own individual paths, which is what their nation was founded for, but that does not stop them from acting for their nation or on behalf of others and has long been their greatest strength," he pauses for a moment, "and weakness."

Leila immediately understands, "Slow to anger, but quick to act. Les États-Unis d'Amérique would rather walk their own path, but if someone upsets that or they are greatly offended, they slowly begin to raise up to the threat."

"Indeed."

"Which gives the offender time to withdraw back and leave well enough alone," Leila nods in understanding, "Yet if they do not, they may be surprised by how fast les États-Unis d'Amérique will react as it is no longer the people, but the nation that is reacting as the les Américains begin focusing to strengthen their nation to return to their peaceful lives and being, as you said sir, left alone to walk their own path."

"Indeed," the old man sighs as he finishes his found, "The Guerre Civile Américaine was proof enough of that."

"The First American-Britannian War," Leila nods in understanding, "Britannian had relocated to South America after the Treaty of New Lomond and once there, set about strengthening themselves so as to never be chased out of a home again."

"The passing of Elizabeth III marked the rise of the Duke of Britannia and the Britannia Imperial Family's founding," Smilas gently rolls his wine glass in his hand, letting the red liquid swell like waves in the ocean, yet not a drop is spilled, "Britannia would very quickly acquire large swaths of South America and found the Holy Empire of Britannia and eventually go on to destroy the Império do Brasil."

"They absorbed the last of the Portugais Royal Family," Leila points out.

"After they executed all of the male members," Smilas reminds Leila of that fact and the blonde shows her discomfort at that mention, "In the following wars between les Britanniens and les Américains, the latter would lose only a couple of campaigns such as the First Cuban War and the First Battle of Panama, but would rally and eventually defeat the Britannians, forcing them out of the Caribbean for some 20 years."

"About 23 years sir," Leila giggles as she recalls one better than her teacher and the man shows his own good humor.

"After the American Civil War," Smilas moves on, "The Americans would learn that it was Britannian and the Europia that were responsible for the attempt to split their nation in half."

"That would upset anyone sir," Leila knows that prior to the end of the 19th Century, Europia and American relations had been quite strained.

"Indeed," Smilas recalls the history well enough, "But in point of fact, the EU had merely acted to keep the young North American nation contained, but had later learned of Britannien involvement and therefore, began helping the nearly 100 year old nation."

"Thus leading to the First American-Britannian War," Leila nods, "The first major clash between the two nations of North and South America."

"Indeed," Smilas could note the irony there too, "The American South had more in common with the Empire than they did with their own countrymen to the north and west. The war would conclude with a number of former Rebel officers returning to serve the Union Army and Navy in the first war between the Empire and the Union."

**XXXX**

"This war was the first of many truly great battles that pushed the Americans and Britannians forward in development as nations and how they would develop as societies," Dr. Rodger Weller lectures to his audience, "The social changes we witnessed in history, and to this day, are what set the two nations apart and drove their developments."

Many are taking e-notes for later reference and still more are recording. Lelouch and his friends are among both groups. This has been the most informative lecture they have ever gotten.

"The United States of America developed with an aim towards character and responsibility," Weller continues on with his lecture, "The Holy Empire of Britannia continues to center itself on birth and influence. While influence might sound simple, in America and Britannia, they are night and day. As the period known as the Emblem of Blood clearly demonstrates, that Britannian influence was whether or not you could fight to the top and stay there regardless of who you literally killed or crippled to get there."

Unnoticed in the crowd and even to their own friends, both of the Lampouge Siblings flinch at the reminder of the Emblem of Blood and the truth of the kill or cripple statement.

"After the American Civil War, Britannia found itself in a difficult position. The First American-Britannian War began with naval clashes when the Empire quickly moved to destroy the American fleet and, from there, quickly escalated into the United States Army, still dubbed the Union Army, invading the Britannia-occupied and annexed the Republic of Mexico."

Leaning over to Lelouch, "I never heard much about those campaigns," Rivalz states before adding, "Now I will."

"Same here," Lelouch agrees as images of the war appears.

Old paintings, current monuments, documents, and other details. The viewing is not something a Britannian would like or could like. It was a dark chapter yet again according to their teachers.

But the reality is not the same as what the teachers say.

"The Union Army," Rodger Weller began, "Consisted of some of the most battle hardened soldiers in the world, with proven leaders in command, and were increasingly being supplied by the newest weapons available at the time."

Images of the war, showing Union troops armed with deadly Spencer Repeating Rifles and Carbines as well as the world's first, true Machine Gun, the Agar Gun, appeared in their holoboxes.

"The Union Army had experience and new weapons after the changing of the guard in Ordnance and other parts of the American Military, in direct response to the success of officers who did not hold to traditional doctrines or movements," Weller continues his lecture, "As such, they were not only well armed, but well led and the thorny supply issue that had been crippling was finally rooted out and dealt with too."

Several laughs filled the auditorium.

No one likes a crooked politician.

"The Union Army was able to counter an early land thrust by the Britannians," an image shows the exact battle, it was the first to be photographed in detail as it was happening after all, "The Battle of San Diego, where ten Agar Guns and five Gatling Guns were sent shortly before the end of the American Civil War along with 10,000 soldiers of the Army and supported by one of the only two Ironclads the Union Navy had in all of the West Coast along with a detachment of some 200 Marines who had another three Agar Guns and four Gatling Guns, at their disposal defeated a force of nearly 79,000 Britannian soldiers including the Heavy Lance Regiment of Imperial Knights."

The images show how the battle was fought.

Maps with outlines, digital renderings of movements. Weller had spared no effort to impress the importance of the Battle of San Diego. It was the beginning of what would later lead directly to Trench Warfare.

"Britannian Heavy Cavalry tried several times," the lecturer continues on, "To break the Union lines," Weller indicates the CGI reenactment of the battle, "But with no less than 22 rapid fire heavy weapons, the Heavy Cavalry could not break through any where. The more mobile Gatling Guns were employed by the Union forces as Flying Artillery alongside their Light Artillery Batteries. The battle was essentially an updated version of an earlier battle where American Flying Artillery had decimated a Mexican Army in battle not even 20 years earlier."

The CGI reenactments show it all. The fruitless Infantry charges on positions defended by Agar Guns. The lone Ironclad, _USS Comanche_, could be seen running amok as she maneuvered in the shallow waters of the bay. Her turret allowed her to pick a good spot and then fire at will and whatever angle she wished. The Britannian Ironclads were all Broadsiders and most were not entirely protected, as seen when the _HMIS Defense_ took a direct blow to her vulnerable stern resulting in her steering being disabled.

There were a few other US Navy vessels, steam ships all of them, but also wooden. They held off, firing from range and using cover specially placed for them to run between and fire when they could. Several, though, were hit and badly damaged, nearly wiping out the squadron assembled for the battle.

But the Battle of San Diego proved a point. The old ways were dying as the new ways fought on. The outnumbered Americans held off the Britannians, held them off long enough for _USS Monadnock_ and her squadron arrived as surprise reinforcements for the defenders.

The Ironclad cut a dashing scene, entering combat an angle, guns firing in a ripple effect as she lead the way. Her flag flying in the wind as she made her best speed possible, she actually achieved higher speed as the stokers had experimented and drilled relentlessly to shovel coal in the best way for maximum effect. She crested water off her bow in her dash into the bay and despite how ungainly she would be against her opponents and later ships, her surprise appearance and ability to fire where she wanted too while moving how she wanted, dictated the naval battle.

While the pose was fanciful, the shots were not particularly good. But it didn't matter. The shots were an act of calculation, not desperation, allowing the following ships to adjust their fire and rake the surprised Britannians who had panicked at the sudden appearance of the two turreted Ironclad.

"The Battle of San Diego set the future of warfare before anyone had realized it," Dr. Weller explains to his audience, "While this precise battle would not be repeated, the damage it inflicted lead the way to American support of continuing the war and the, well founded, belief that this third war would again end in another American victory over their ex-masters."

The images change to show the continuing war after the invasion by Britannia was repulsed with heavy losses. The Americans now arriving, replacing their old Single-Shot Muskets with Repeaters.

"The Union Army still had an uphill battle, but eventually and supported by the Union Marines and a land contingent of the Union Navy, the Union retook Mexico City after a 57-day campaign," Dr. Weller shakes his head sadly, "They walked unopposed into a city that was leveled to buildings being no taller than waist of a grown man, little more than a child's height, and more dead than they could ever count."

The Slaughter of Mexico City had become a rallying cry for Mexicans. Though their Republic was never re-founded in the aftermath. Britannia had seen to that.

"And it was only the beginning," Weller adds solemnly.

**XXXX**

"Britannia practiced Scorched Earth until their defeat in the Second American-Britannian War and the death of Emperor Xavier fi Britannia when rioters overwhelmed his column," Smilas states as he recounts history, "Their actions ultimately came back to haunt the Britannian people and military. They had severe food and resource shortages, manpower depletion, and academic collapse on top of being internationally isolated."

Leilal said nothing as her teacher continues his lecture.

"Britannia eventually began to rally and by the start of the First World War, had succeeded in recovering," Smilas continues on, switching to coffee to be alert and awake for the upcoming meeting, "The second war had seen Britannia forced back to their territory in South America, though they still controlled more than a third of the continent, they were essentially nobodies."

**XXXX**

"The Second Cuban War broke out and the Americans won that one so handedly, that the Britannians were forced to rethink their own developments and approaches," Weller walks back and forth on the stage, stopping by various floating images to give some insight as well.

"Essentially, the American Civil War was a poorly timed adventure that Britannia could not afford due to their own infighting," Weller looks up and scans the whole crowd. He's able to spot the group he had met earlier and is pleased to see them present. Young people needed their minds to open to knowledge, to grow, expand, and develop new ideas and theories to be tested and tried.

Within reason of course.

But still.

"Britannia itself was on the verge of civil war," Weller continues pointedly, "So backing the American Civil War, the so-called Confederate States of America, more like a loosely aligned league or alliance than ever a true confederacy," several glares or chuckles were visible or heard in the crowd, "proved more of a strain than an assistance to Britannia and nearly broke the back of the Empire between 1860 and 1867."

The group continued to take notes of everything, "Many distinguished houses and families collapsed during this time, one notable disappearance was of the Lampouge Noble Family," the Siblings were startled, as was Milly when they heard that, "The Britannian Knight, Sir Dash Lampouge, one of the sons of the House Lampouge, was sent to Japan where the wayward Princess Claire li Britannia had been living in hiding. While _Empress _Claire li Britannia did ascend the throne, she was a mere figurehead and her government collapsed just prior to the First American-Britannian War."

A portrait of Claire li Britannia is shown alongside the portrait of Sir Dash Lampouge, along with others, and the appearance between both male Lampouges is striking as Lelouch blinks at how close in appearance the two are.

"Escaping her empire, Claire li Britannia returned to Japan aboard an American merchantman under military escort where she married a young Japanese Shinobi named Renya and reportedly lived out the last of her days in Japan," Dr. Weller steps up to the portrait of Dash.

"Dash Lampouge reportedly died in Japan, but rumors persisted that he had a child while in Japan," Dr. Weller stands, observing the portrait before turning, knowing that the young man he saw earlier was indeed one of Dash's own direct descendents, "This information came to be confirmed early this week when the hidden file on the matter was discovered at an old US Army fort undergoing renovation."

Shocked gasps filled the auditorium at that, "The entire Lampouge family either relocated to America or Japan just prior to the first war between the Empire and the Union. The loss of the militarily skilled Lampouge family was immediately and keenly felt. The bloody nature of Britannia would also be felt as the Empire entered a rapid decline that by 1890, saw the Empire was a shadow of its former self."

**XXXX**

"After the American victory in 1887 in the Second American-Britannian War," Silmas pulls out a carton of cigarettes to smoke for a moment, offering one to Leila who politely turned the offer down, "Britannia hit rock bottom," the man blows out a puff of smoke before continuing, "But in that defeat, Britannia had lost all of its incapable leaders and nobles for the time being. This allowed the remaining, capable leaders and nobles to come to power and reform elements of their empire that led directly to a bit of a renaissance, so much so, that by 1906, _HMIS Dreadnought_ was commissioned, resulting in the Start of the Age of Battleships and making Britannia the prime naval power in the world for the next three decades."

**XXXX**

"Now I will state something of importance here and now, ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Weller states as he looks out to the people who had come to hear him speak, "The concept of Innovation as a purely Capitalist concept, is complete and utter rubbish."

A large number of the people show their genuine surprise at that statement. It is not something they expected and so they sat by, waiting for an explanation. One they would not have to wait long for as Dr. Weller waited only until the surprise of his statement had passed and what he had said had sunk in.

"The _HMIS Dreadnought_ is clear evidence that innovation doesn't need a Capitalist world to see the creation of new developments," Dr. Weller explains as he pulls up an image before him, before taking it in his hands and tossing up for it to expand and show everyone the great warship built in 1906 AD or 1961 ATB.

The image is a stark contrast to every ship before her. The true starting point of what would evolve into model ships of war.

"_HMIS Dreadnought_, when she was first commissioned," Dr. Weller states with is hands clasped behind his back, "Rendered every Capital-class Warship and even some Cruiser-class Warships, hopelessly obsolete in a single moment."

No one said a thing. They wait instead.

"The Dreadnought, herself, was the most advanced warship in the world and while most certainly complex," the lecturer continues to hold his pose, "She was not beyond replication, as she was joined by three sister ships before improved Dreadnoughts, the term used to describe such Battleships and created by the very Britannian namesake herself, appeared on the scene and again," moving his hands in front of himself, to manipulate and throw up images of the earliest Dreadnought Battleships, "They were _all _Britannian warships."

That statement left everyone with a cold feeling, especially with how pointed and hard Dr. Weller's voice had been.

**XXXX**

"_Dreadnought_, her sisters, and those that followed devastated our fleets until we had Dreadnoughts of our in sufficient numbers to counter them," Leila recalls her history lessons well, recalling the fate of the Pre-Dreadnoughts that had challenged the more technologically advanced Britannian ships.

"Indeed," Smilas looks into his drink for a moment.

**XXXX**

"Not only military gains were made, but many fields of scientific endeavors were achieved," Weller points out, "Britannian, for nearly forty years prior, had actually lead the world in steel development, creating the highest grade steel and was one of only a small handful of such nations able to make steel at all."

The crowd murmurs as they listen in.

"It took a clever American businessman to finally unlock Britannia's secret," Weller shakes his head, "And all he did," the famed researcher suddenly pauses for effect, "was to have a good memory that he went to visit Britannia, saw the work of one of their steel mills, noted the formulas and techniques, and committed everything to memory before returning to America and telling his fellow businessmen, who promptly brought American steel production up to the level of Britannia."

The laughter of how simple that was, filled the auditorium.

"But even then," Weller counts in, reminding everyone, "Though America had the technology of steel, it would take decades for American steel developments to truly catch up and even surpass Britannia. While America had the capability and desire, they lacked the will to do so as they found it _not _necessary for their needs, whereas Britannian _did _find it necessary and continued to lead."

Sayoko notices how absorbed Lelouch and her other charges are in the lecture and she, herself, is also absorbed in the learning.

"Britannia developed many of the advanced principles of the world, but they were not alone," an image of the Great Seal of the United Republic of the Europia suddenly appears, "The United Republic of Europia was also a major source of advancement during the late Industrial Revolution itself, with France alone producing many leading minds and scientific principles as well as successful inventions, though the Germans and my British forebearers also developed a great many achievements as well," Rodger Weller smiles up at a picture of one of his ancestors as the man helped make practical the early Airships by coming up with the Weller Flex Beam, a beam that prevented excess stress on the early Airships' light construction frames.

"In fact, my ancestor, Charles Cunningham Weller," grabbing his ancestor's picture, before tossing it up to expand for all to see, "Created the principles that successfully allowed for practical and economical Airship industries to come to fruition, first with his Weller Flex Beam and then the Weller Honeycombed Frame and with Professor Annabelle Walters, the first female Airship Researcher, they created the Walters-Weller W-2 Long Beam Support for the Weller Honeycombed Frame."

Suddenly looking very sad, "But every good thing must have a dark lining it seems, as Airships were pushed to the front for war."

The first Strategic Intercontinental Bombers were, of course, Airships.

"Despite the EU and Britannia developing some of the most advanced weapons prior to it, the First World War, fought from 1912-1920, was truly a bloody period of war," Weller shakes his head in annoyance, "Britannian military leadership was still, as it is today, centered on the status of birth, but in that war, Britannian had been blessed with capable leaders who were able to go on to successfully battle the United Republic of Europia, who had squabbling issues of their own, but were equally blessed with great leaders, but they only appeared later in the war."

**XXXX**

"Damn trench warfare," Silmas states as their vehicle enters Strasbourg, "But at least we know what _not _to do now."

"Though it was not just the trenches," Leila states to her benefactor.

Snorting angrily, "Isn't _that _the truth."

**XXXX**

"America sat out most of the First World War," Weller states to the people attending, "It was not their war and they had just come off a half century of war already. They needed time and space to rest their tired military and redevelop their economy away from war to restart their prosperity which was wavering in the face of constant military expenditures."

"Makes sense," the group's neighbors agreed.

"On top of that, the permanently named Union had found themselves rebuilding areas brutalized by Britannia," Dr. Weller took out a simulated cigarette and lit up before the crowd, "Which was also draining the American economy as well. It also drove forward American Colonial Ambitions, which gained them a large piece of the Africa coast based around their colony of Liberia."

A puff of smoke as the good doctor tries to reorganize his thoughts as he thinks things over on what to say next.

"Americans like being left alone to pursue their own destinies through their own devices," Weller takes a drag on his cigarette, "Plus, ties between America and Europia were already weak, even if they had been improving by leaps and bounds. So with no gain and no allies in danger, the Americans decided to let Britannia and Europe fight it out while they rested. A sound, logical deduction and conclusion."

"Here it comes," Lelouch murmurs.

"But not where Britannia was concerned."

**XXXX**

Smilas sighs in thought, "The Americans were eventually forced to join the war. A war they did not want to fight, but had enough time to rest and recover enough to fight it and win it."

**XXXX**

"The First World War saw America enter war again as a moderately leveled military force," Dr. Weller notes for everyone, "They had been at the forefront of military development, but you can only develop so much for war before it becomes a heavy weight upon your nation," Weller releases another digital puff, "The Americans knew this and wanted to stay out of the fight because of it, but the raids on their shipping, attacks on their colonies, and generally bad blood between the Union and the Empire, saw America lead the Union into war with Britannia."

**XXXX**

"Only the size of the forces kept the war going as long as it did before it ended," Smilas notes they are entering the city now, "Afterwards, the world rested for twenty years and the EU…"

Leila says nothing as her mentor trails off.

**XXXX**

"Thanks to the infusion of the Union into the war, it finally ended in late 1920, with a treaty signed in 1921," Dr. Weller sighs as he shakes his head, "The Union, having been much more secure, had escaped severe damage, able to prevent the Britannians from invading its territories again and as such, the war's needs had led to an economic boom that went on, even after the war."

Dr. Weller puffs again.

"The EU, caught up in politics, did not enjoy this boom as much of its territory was devastated and remained so for some time after the war."

**XXXX**

"Conversely, while the EU was left a mess," Smilas checks himself in the mirror to make sure he is presentable, "The Union enjoyed an unseen change in prosperity which elevated the country's wealth forward and above what had been seen previously. They were going through the Roaring Twenties in style as the troops returned home."

**XXXX**

"The great differences really begin to pop up here between the Americans and the Britannians," Dr. Weller has two images appear, "On the left, are a pair of Americans in a Zoot Suit and Flapper dress and on the right, we have a pair of Britannians wearing dress of Celestian Era, is essentially a modernized form of dress from the previous Monarch Era."

"I'm not seeing much change even now," one woman remarks just below the Ashford group, "Other than a few things, it looks like the Britannians never gave up outfits that emphasize the bust, hips, and waist."

"So backwards," another woman remarks.

"No kidding," a man winces at the design for the male, "That had to be tight where it shouldn't be."

"And these are two images between people of, well, roughly anyways, equal of social standing," Dr. Weller supplies to everyone's not so considerable shock, "But this is only a matter of dress, which is to be expected for different nations."

People absorb that statement, waiting for what will be said next.

"This, in America and the Union as a whole, was also the Jazz Age," and with a snap of fingers, some old 1920's jazz begins to be heard in the auditorium, adding a nice ambience to the background, "Something that Britannian, and even the EU, did not take well too."

**XXXX**

As Smilas and Leila enter the Parliament building for the meeting that is to start in a short while, they pass some bored guards at an internal security checkpoint.

Despite looking ill prepared, the pair and their escorts could tell the soldiers were ready for anything tossed their way. They may have looked like they were lazy, but none of the guards exposed more than necessary. Their movements are precise without wasted motion or movement.

Their attention is alert and they are even using a few little tricks to hide that they are on full alert, such as a trio watching an intersection, seemingly playing cards as they listen to jazz, _Sing-Sing_ playing over the small radio, as they use their seemingly innocent attempts to read each other to actually keep a firm eye on the hallways and alert one another by some physical means as opposed to more tradition means.

Outside the box thinking. Effective and helps pass the time better until they either go on break, their shifts end, or they have reason to go from passive to active. Something the other side will pay in blood for mistaking an innocent appearance of laziness, as anything but calm and attention.

The pair are through and heading to meet with some fellow officers, even as an unauthorized journalist in hiding near some plants finds out that there are also hidden guards the hard way.

"Sing-Sing," Smilas smiles, "Still as good as ever."

"Yes sir," she was more a classical girl herself.

**XXXX**

"In Britannia, automobiles, mostly called cars these days, depending on where you are," Rodger Weller elicited some laughter, "were the sole domain of the privileged and nobility. Unlike in the United States and the Union as a whole, the car was seen then, as it is today, as a symbol of freedom and travel afar without a set destination in mind and no need to set your life to a schedule."

Rivalz puffs out happily at his motorcycle.

"Though, with the world as it is today, that even in Britannia, this would now be the gospel truth," the good doctor then sighs as he shakes his head, "In theory, yes."

Lelouch rolls his eyes as Milly snorts unladylike as both know what's coming next.

"In truth, no," Dr. Weller states as he continues on, "And it is this fact that truly leads to the difference between America and Britannia."

**XXXX**

The crow twists and turns its head, craning its neck upwards to craws as it stands on top of a small roof of a modest looking cottage.

Then it takes to the air just before a rocket passes through the space it had been occupying.

That rocket continues onward. Being a Dumb Fired weapon, its only path in life, is the one that it blazes a straight line through. Up until it hits something.

In this case, the shield of an American Knightmare.

The Explosive Reactive Armor bricks on the other layer of the shield detonate in a fury of pyrotechnics and deafening, bone shattering shockwave. The shield weathering the explosion as it was designed to do. The Knightmare Frame behind and holding up the shield absorbs the impact firmly as it rocks from the violent blast.

"_**AM-BUSH!"**_ one of the American Frame Runners shout as he tosses his Knightmare into cover behind a building just as another Panzerfaust rocket barrels through the space his machine had just occupied to blast open the town library.

Another American Knightmare takes a knee after getting into cover and begins to fire back with its Bazooka.

Two unguided rockets go down range. One explodes a mound of trees, destroying an ancient rock wall along a long used roadway. The other, though, rips into the chest of a RPI-13 Sutherland, causing the cockpit to eject before the destroyed Knightmare explodes.

A recoilless cannon fired back from the lines of the Sutherlands. The shell arcing over homes to miss and destroy a field more than a hundred meters behind the Americans. The upturned earth raining down on homes and the Americans.

The Americans did not fall for the trap.

The first two Sutherlands with Jousting Lances were torn apart by the Americans' gunfire. Neither Knight stood a chance. Their machines exploding before their ejection systems could activate, killing both.

The next Sutherland with a lance found itself meeting the shield of one of the American machines. The FM-1 Frost swings its shield around as it rapidly maneuvers, throwing the Britannian machine off-balance. Before the Knight can recover, the Frame Runner toggles her controls and her shotgun blasts into the Sutherland, crippling the machine.

The Knight barely escapes with his life.

"_That's right!"_ the woman shouts, "_We _earn _our place! Go back to your empire you Limpies!"_

**XXXX**

"In both nations, there is a system of status concerning the people who live in either country," Dr. Weller has a graph show up, detailing the differences, "As you can see, the Britannian emphasis is on birth and heritage. The American status is on contribution and responsibility."

Rivalz and Shirley are furiously taking notes. This has proven to be enlightening.

"As you can see in this graph," Dr. Weller indicates the Purple and Blue data, color coded to represent the respective nation, "Britannia's system is Royals at the top, followed by the Nobles, then the Citizens, and finally the Commoners. This is the system regarding those only with Britannian Blood. Honorary Britannians sit beneath the Commoners and below them are, of course," Rodger Weller looks like he just ate the worst of the worst sour grapes in the world, "the Numbers."

Murmuring at that detestable name.

To the Ashford group, the people around them are incensed at the use of the term. Several voicing their sympathies for Dr. Weller to use them. One woman even pats Sayako sympathetically on the shoulder, much to the Japanese maid's surprise.

"Ah, yes," Dr. Weller sarcastically begins, "The ever popular slur, Numbers. I much prefer Native myself. More of a statement than insult. But to our Japanese friend in her Yukata, I would always prefer to say the heritage from start to finish. It's only polite and morally good afterall," the man drawls at the end, earning a few chuckles as Sayako does her best to minimize how she stands out.

Which is impossible.

She's the only one present in a Yukata!

"But as you can see for Americans, it's two groups," Dr. Weller is clearly happy to switch topics and take everyone's attention off the poor maid.

Sayako lets out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Remind me not to call anyone a Number when Sayako is in hearing range," Rivalz whispers to Lelouch.

"I would say never to use that term again, but…" Lelouch trails off, both boys knowing the penalty if heard by the wrong person.

"The American system is divided into the Civilian and the Citizen," Dr. Weller continues with a smile on his face, "The Civilians of America are not in any danger. While they are not Citizens, there are laws that prevent them from being reduced to conditions no better than in Britannia. In fact, the most wealthy individuals in America, are Civilians and they really don't care to be Citizens either."

'_What's the difference?'_ Nina wonders as she adjusts her glasses.

**XXXX**

The Britannian Knightmares battle it out with their American counterparts. Both sides turning the Crotian countryside as they maneuver and fight. The small town in which the battle had begun, is now a burning ruin. Several other towns and villages quickly joining it.

"_Explains why we couldn't find anyone!"_ one American Frame Runner shouts to his superior as both use a riverbed as a trench with at least fifty other Frosts.

"_They either evacuated them or killed them before we showed up,"_ the Company Commander agrees as he coordinates a battery of SPGs to lay down the hurt on the Britannians.

"_DIE SURGES!"_ one Sutherland leaps over a small embankment to land in the riverbed, stabbing forward with its lance, only for a Knuckle Duster to punch the thing away.

"_Don't announce yerself, stupid!"_ the American shouts back.

As more Sutherlands jump into the 'trench' that the Frosts had been fighting from, it becomes a large melee.

Quickly, unlike earlier, several American FM-1 Frosts are laid out, wrecked. Pilots ethier ejected to safety or dead. In the Close-Quarter Combat that develops, the Britannians have an advantaged, being melee-oriented throughout their lives. Training for such combat and executing it with all they have been taught.

The Americans, though, have only their standard military training and their experience. The latter being what is winning out, as the riverbed turned trench is not large enough for the Jousting Lance wielding Sutherlands to gain a full tactical advantage over the Club and Knuckle Duster-equipped Americans.

Very quickly, the Sutherlands are the ones going down. Equipped for an open field charge, in the tight confines, they struggle to switch to their Stun Tonfas in time. The Americans don't give them that time as they press forward, with another Frost, equipped with Pile Bunkers, jumping into the melee and quickly taking out five machines in less than three minutes.

"_It's the Ghost!"_ one of the American's shouts at seeing the French-marked FM-1 Frost.

"_Reinforcements,"_ the Company Commander sighs in relief as more American and fresh European Knightmares join the line and help begin driving the Britannians back.

**XXXX**

"Britannians, especially Britannian Knights, are known to go it alone, forgoing all military doctrine in order to gain quick, personal victory and accords," Dr. Weller cleans his glasses on his shirt, before holding them, examining them, "By contrast, the Americans value teamwork as much as individual initiative. Their ultimate objective is to merely survive and win the battle to go home. They value their unit, their friends and in many ways, their family away from their families, even above their own lives."

People are silent at that.

"This also reflects on the collective mindsets of their nations," Weller nods, satified before replacing his glasses on his face and continuing, "Make no mistake. Loyalty and Collectivism is not only valued, but also is always bred in Britannia. Always honored and expected. Always demanded and rewarded. But the problem is that Britannian politics, is a toxic soup able to melt through a Knightmare's armor in less time than if you chucked one into the Sun itself."

"Ain't that the truth," someone above the group mutters.

"In America, loyalty can be just as easily abandoned," the doctor doesn't mince words, "But that is more or less casual loyalty. Something anyone can live with or without. Honestly, I don't know which is worse, but if there is one thing to note," Dr. Weller states gravely, "is that Americans _rarely _do not show loyalty, even to those they haven't met before. In that way, Americans are more the wolf pack to Britannia's pride of lions."

**XXXX**

Hyuga Akito couldn't stop himself from blinking.

An American Frost had taken a blow meant for him. The Frame Runner purposely putting themselves into the line of danger and taking the lance to chest armor.

The opening left as the crippled Frost had grappled the Sutherland's lance, allowed Akito to take his acquired Assault Rifle and fire two bursts into the Sutherland, destroying it and forcing the pilot to eject.

Taking hold of the now freefalling Frost, Akito begins to pull it back into cover.

"_You… okay?"_ the American Frame Runner asks, showing that the lance had penetrated into the cockpit.

"Yes," Akito responds, he is indeed unharmed.

"_Glad… to… hea-"_ the wounded American passes out abruptly.

"_I got him sir,"_ a French Frost takes the crippled American machine, "_We have medics right over there,"_ the Frenchman points out, "_We've secured this area now. Looks like the battle is winding down at last."_

"_Only took us several hours and dozens of dead and wounded,"_ another American gripes as he provides overwatch, "_Damn Limps."_

**XXXX**

"Politically, both nations are complete opposites in many ways," Dr. Weller taps his lecturn as he thinks his next words over for a few moments, "In many ways, the Americans reflect the Roman Republic, bringing it's legacy together with Greek Democracies."

Few people question as they listen. It is a regular occurrence on the news. The difference between the two.

"America's system is geared towards those that serve who get Franchised or the Right to Vote and Hold Office," Dr. Weller explains, "The American system is aimed solely to uphold the safety of the entire population. Be Civil, Government, or Military service, the Citizens of America are expected to live by a standard to uphold the greater good over themselves. Though they are also free to live their lives freely and not shackled down. In this way, they follow the spirit of Noblesse Oblige."

The siblings and Milly listen to what they are hearing. This is a part that separates the two sides fully.

"In the words of the late Admiral Yang Wen-li," Dr. Weller brought up one of America's most famed naval commanders, "'_That while Democracy is less efficient and can be slowed dramatically with corruption, nevertheless, is better because it is less likely to be corrupted completely and no one person would have absolute power, because, after all, a good and wise Emperor such as Alwin V doesn't come along often.'_"

No one found it in themselves to argue the point. It is the truth after all.

"Opposite the American Citizen is the Britannian Noble," Dr. Weller chuckles a bit here, "Local, Regional, Provincial leaders, whatever the Imperial Court appoints and the Imperial Senate approves. At least that's how it had been once. Now not so much, but the Britannian Noble is still the same and honestly, I could list the various facts, but I'm afraid we've just plain run out of time now," the man huffs as he indicates a holographic clock, "Honestly. Do they have to put a limit on education? If people wish to learn and learn smartly, with a bit of sense and intelligence, why stop them, hm?"

The crowd laugh at his little bit of humor.

"Anyways," Roger Weller would not be denied this one piece, "The Britannian Nobility is an organized structured system. Interesting to note, is that there are titles of King and Queen in this system, considered just below that of the Imperial Family itself. This is both functional and historical, as Alwin I was known as the High King of Kings when he was elected as the first to hold that distinct title."

Lelouch and Nunnally both rolled their eyes. Of course their former homeland would do that. Much of Britannia was built around nostalgia. Something no one particularly cared to talk about at the moment.

"Currently, there appears to be no holders of the titles of Archduke and Archduchess," the lecturer stops for a moment, "At least anymore as the Archduke of Eylstadt had defective recently to the Union," Dr. Weller continues on, "At this time, the rank of Elector is unused, as all titles are filled or not in use, while there are only a few Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses, who's positions are now more important and closely monitored, and many Dukes and Duchesses about."

"In more ways than one," Rivalz remarks quietly, as his parents were the illegitimate children of a pair of Dukes.

"Sovereign Prince and Princess ranks are also not in use," Dr. Weller continues, "Though it is believed they have been discontinued along with associated ranks and positions. These ranks would be similar in use to heads of state, though we are unsure as Britannia has had so few in its history. The ranks may have been simply place holding titles. Records are, unfortunately scarce to determine their exact position or if they were similar to the existing ranks of the same title."

That made sense to Lelouch. He recalled his mother mentioning something like that. But not the details. He was only 6 when she mentioned it after all.

"Likewise, Count Palatine is the only title in the Marquise-Margrave-Landgrave ranking to not be in use and is considered obsolete by Britannia, though it is thought that the rank is sometimes used in the Chinese Federation," Dr. Weller had brought up a useful chart, "Below these ranks are the Counts and Countesses, Earls, Viscount and Viscountess, Baron and Baroness, Baronet and Baronetess, and folks this is getting to be a tongue twister to name all of these ranks."

The entire ensemble of people laugh uproariously at the famous researcher's words. Though it didn't come as a surprise. There are many ranks and positions, with some still unfilled and others declared obsolete for any number of reasons.

"Needless to say, there are a lot of ranks both active and inactive and far more nobles than there is any right to exist," Dr. Weller adjusts his glasses as he pushes himself off his lectern, "The fact is, with all of these ranks, advancement to gain anything of importance is a much. While this competition spurs develops, it also creates a deadly quagmire of rivalies and vice of its own, up to and including sabotage of efforts vital to the Empire's future."

An alarm suddenly rings next to Dr. Weller. The man glares at the thing before shaking his head.

"My apologies ladies and gentlemen, but that is all for today," Dr. Weller looks saddened to end his lecture then and there, "Now I will be back, no worries and hopefully we can pick up from where we have since left off. I do have the means for you to get the short version, here you go," with a few swipes of his fingers, like a conductor of an orchestra, Dr. Weller sends out his information for people to find his research and how to obtain it for their own leisurely pursuit.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," the good doctor waves as people begin to get up and depart or simply log out once they have the information, before the alarm goes off again, "_Confound them! I swear I will alter their vocal data to make them sing their words for a month before they can correct the change!"_

The laughter that fills the auditorium is definitely music to Dr. Weller's ears.

**XXXX**

Two days later, at the Union encampment less than 10 kilometers from the Danube. After seizing Osijek, the Union troops, mostly American, but with a large force of French and Italians now apart of their corps, rested after digging in and entrenching themselves for the evening.

Their march and battles had had a toll on them, but now, they could know an evening of peace.

The current campaign in the Adriatic Theater is far from over. Plans for the Danube Jump Off to recreate the current theater are still in the making. But for right now, the soldiers rest after a series of running battles over two days. Rest they should crave, but some, like a specific lonely Japanese soldier far from home, wish they didn't have as it gave them time to think and dwell on those thoughts.

Which is why, of course, Akito sat alone as he ate his field rations.

His mind still going over the American that had thrown himself in the way of that Sutherland. Despite the best efforts of medical personnel, the man had passed away from his wounds. The American had lost his life so that he, Akito, could live.

Akito couldn't understand it.

Why had he done so?

He was American. Akito is Japanese. He should have known that. That Akito was supposed to be essentially nothing to him.

Yet…

Yet, the American was glad he was safe. That with his own life, he had saved Akito's. It confused him even now. As no one, not even his fellow Japanese had really done the same for him.

"I thought I'd find you here Akito," the dark haired youth looks up at Leila Malcal, the blond smiling as she sat down next to him, "I heard about what happened and came to check on you and the others."

Akito turns his head, his blue eyes staring at the small fire hidden among the rocks that keep him warm and alone. It's the only warmth he really knows. All he needs to know.

"Tell me, Akito," but Leila gently places one of her fingers under his chin and lifts his head up to see her, her face kind, yet there is a look, "I will make it an order if I have to and you know it."

Her light purple eyes bore into his blue orbs and he knows it a lost cause right there.

"Confused," he admits to his superior officer, "Confused on why he did that. An American dying for me. I'm Japanese, he was American. We are so different and yet, he readily died for me and was happy that I was able to live. Why?"

Leila sighs.

Ever since Adou had been relieved by American Green Berets, and later shot after his court martial, for his callous actions towards wZERO, she had been working to rebuild the morale and unity of the special forces unit.

But some damage and trauma existed before she had even arrived. Akito being the most obvious. Always surviving when others died. An orphan for who knows how long. He also has immense built up anger issues and doesn't trust at all.

It had taken her nearly six months to reach this point. Where she could get him to talk to her.

"Huh?" Akito blinks as he suddenly finds his head pulled down and soon resting on Leila's lap as the blond strokes his blue hair.

"Akito," the blond French girl smiles down at him sadly, "You're still young. He saw long life for you that you had not seen yet. He was willing to die, not only for that, but because you were in danger."

"I was…" Akito blinks as he adjusts his body.

Why was he letting her touch him like this? Why let her keep his head in her lap? Why was he conforming to this?

Admittedly, Akito found it… Comfortable. Warm even.

"Americans are made up of everyone, Akito," Leila states as she strokes the young man's hair, "Even Japanese are counted among their population. He saw not a Japanese Frame Runner in danger, but a comrade in arms and friend of his people."

"Comrade? Friend?" Akito wonders if those could be applied to him at all.

"Yes," Leila smiles, "The Americans deep down are kind people. They are rough and most often than not, can be self-centered. But when there are those in danger and they cannot turn away, they won't deny it. That self-centered, rough nature of theirs melts away. They honor those who die for them and honorably die for others, be it their countrymen or foreigners because they believe so strongly in what is fair and right in this world."

"Not all," Akito bitterly points out.

But Leila only smiles at him, "True, but again, not all. Others will even go further, risking more for little gain, simply because it was the right thing to do."

Akito has no reply to that.

"Live Akito," Leila states softly, "Live for that time, when you can see why you were spared to live while he fell with honor and glory on a battlefield so distant from his home and loved ones."

XXXX

Lelouch stretches as he lazes in the sunny afternoon.

Picking up his latest personal reports, he observes that he had finally put together a small company of Knightmare Frames composed of RPI-11 Glasgows and Knightpolice.

They had cost him a large fortune to buy. But he had the money. The war often saw the Black Marketeers eager to move things fast on occasion. He had had just enough to buy this particular stock.

With Milly and her grandfather's help of course.

His revolt is still in its early stages. Though, in truth of fact, the only thing he would achieve, if he would prove so fortunate, is liberating Japan from the Empire. Given that the Americans would likely destroy Britannia first and foremost.

Still, like the American recruitment commercials said, 'Be All You Can Be.'

And he will be all he can be.

"It's not impossible to get weapons," Lelouch mutters as he looks things over.

Sofia Wood had gotten lucky with a train loaded with supplies. During the last American air attack, a train full of Britannian war material had ended up being derailed as it sat on some rails. Sofia had taken cover nearby and noticed the disabled train and checked it out.

Lelouch could only sigh sadly at Sofia's lost as it came to mind.

Her parents, brutally killed by some criminal who enjoyed chess.

The truth of her mother had been truly traumatic, but what happened to her father had been just as bad.

The local magistrate had decided to just demolish the small area they had been brutally killed in and make the scene vanish.

No one was in doubt that if the criminal was ever caught, he'd be dead before long. Prince Clovis had a thing about making it painful too. His older brother having some qualities that could be described as redeemable.

Still, because the man still had a way to buy his way out of trouble, Sofia had been easily recruited. She and Rivalz had been talking a lot more lately and not just about rebelling either. He hopes things turn out well for them. They both could use a little piece of peace themselves.

"Still," Lelouch sighs as he looks at the information, "We're not going to last long."

"Lelouch!" Rivalz calls out, waving to his friend as he gently finishes pushing his bike out of the garage, "We're good to go!"

Putting the details away, "Right!" Lelouch waves back as he picks himself up off the grass and collects his things before heading off to join Rivalz for a ride into town to get some quick cash.

'_Messing with old man Gilmore, eh?' _Lelouch thinks to himself, '_Time I show some stupid Noble why you don't mess with those weaker than themselves. For I will arrive and in zero time, make you regret in full.'_

Rivalz revs his bike to life as Lelouch mounts his own and places his helmet on before revving the engine to life.

With hand signs, both boys take off, displacing the air as they roar off to gamble and flipping a few skirts as they passed in the process.

The world isn't perfect, but that doesn't mean there aren't good times to be alive.

**XXXX**

**Maréchal de France - Marshal of France**

**Parlement de l'Europe Libre - Free Europe Parliament**

**Maréchal - Marshal**

**les Américains - Americans**

**les États-Unis d'Amérique - United States of America**

**Amérique - America**

**Non - No**

**Guerre Civile Américaine - American Civil War**

**Império do Brasil - Empire of Brazil**

**Portugais - Portuguese**

**Les Britanniens - The Britannians**

**XXXX**

**A/N:**

**I do apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had difficulty with trying to express the differences between Britannia and America. Finding a balance between the two has not been easy.**

**Some might say I'm going to glorify America in this story. Well, I did expect that. A such, I wrote in a few lines to express that Americans are people too. We have our flaws. And our perfections as all do. We can be weak and strong, wise and stupid, kind, yet cruel.**

**It's knowing this and working towards self improvement, that we can change all of that.**

**This story is also a work of fiction in a world gripped by war. There will be heroes and villains. Remember that.**


End file.
